


All Your Colors Start To Burn

by CouldBeBlue



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eskild is a meddler forever, Even is an art student, Fluff, Isak is a lazy uni student, M/M, Other, Smut, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-10-24 10:23:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10739763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CouldBeBlue/pseuds/CouldBeBlue
Summary: “You want me to modelnakedfor your friend’s class?”Eskild claps his hands, “Yes! That’s exactly what it is!”(alternatively, Isak is behind on his rent and ends up being the nude model for UiO's art class. Even happens to be a student.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Isak finds out about his money situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

Isak is good at finagling his way in and out of responsibilities.

He can probably give some credit to his looks and charm, but in all honesty, it’s probably more that he usually finds a way to redeem himself, or apologizes in a sincere enough fashion that issues become water under the bridge. Despite holding the title of “world’s laziest boy” in the collective, he always manages to get what needs to be done, done. He’ll begrudgingly pick up his socks that are wedged between the couch cushions after the third time it’s been asked of him, he’ll do maybe half of the dishes in the sink (even though 75% of them are his), and maybe, if he’s feeling particularly generous, he’ll vacuum or pick up some cookies for everyone in the flat to share. It’s those type of things that keep him from being kicked out, and earn him the leeway Eskild has so “generously granted you, Isak, honestly. Where would you even be without me? I’ll tell you, you’d be selling your pretty face in some back alley in downtown Oslo, that’s where you’d be.”

However, as Isak learns, leniency only extends so far. 

***

_Monday, 21:00_  

Eskild knocks just as Isak is closing his laptop. He’d just gotten off of skype with Sana where they had studied, or at least attempted to study for their upcoming biology exam. The call mainly consisted of Sana claiming to know more about mitochondrial structure than Isak did, which caused Isak to whole heartedly protest because he was the one out of the two of them with the 6, thank you very much.

“Isak? Are you decent? Can I come in?” Isak rolls his eyes

“Yes Eskild, you can come in.”

Eskild comes in and as soon as he steps foot into the room he crinkles up his nose, which makes Isak scoff.

“Do you keep garbage under your bed?” Eskild asks, “Or have I just forgotten how bad teenage boys smell, because quite honestly Isak, I don’t know how you expect to court anyone-”

“If you came in here to complain about how I smell, you can leave,” Isak says, rolling onto his stomach to grab his notebook from his bag. He’s used to Eskild’s antics at this point, and if this is one of his usuals spiels about Isak being an ungrateful roommate, then Isak can predict that Eskild will leave within the minute and he can resume studying.

“No, you stinky boy, that’s not why I came in here,” Eskild takes a seat on the corner of the bed. Isak sighs, and resignedly puts his notebook on the floor. When Eskild actually sits down, it means he has something important to say, and in turn deserves Isak’s full attention.

“As you know, rent was due last week,” Eskild starts, looking pointedly at Isak.

“I told you, Eskild, I asked my dad and he hasn’t gotten back to me-”

Eskild holds up his hand.

“I know what you said. I already paid for you.”

Isak lets out a deep breath, “Thank you, Eskild, really. I’m sorry about-”

“However,” Eskild cuts him off, “You also owe me from last month as well.”

Isak blinks. Surely he paid Eskild back for March rent, right? He tries to recall that conversation, but the past month has been a blur of school, chores, and stress in general. He honestly doesn’t remember a day where he could relax. His eyes shift over to the mountain of clothes by his hamper, and then onto the three coffee mugs on his night stand. Yeah, it’s definitely been a high strung couple of weeks.

He looks at Eskild, eyes wide, and Eskild clucks his tongue at him affectionately.

“Before you freak out about having amnesia, the reason you don’t remember not paying is because I didn’t ask you for money.”

“Why wouldn’t you-”

“Because I saw how stressed out you were, baby gay. The last thing i want is for you to get frown lines and mess up your pretty face,” Eskild pokes between Isak’s eyebrows gently, which causes them to scrunch up.

Isak can’t help but feel a rush of warmth for his flatmate. Despite all the shit he gives him, Isak owes Eskild more than he’s willing to say. His stomach always clenches when he realizes what might’ve happened to him if someone who had ill intentions had picked him up while he was blackout drunk. He counts himself as very lucky to have fallen into the hands of Eskild.

Which is why the rush of warmth is followed by a rush of guilt for having Eskild save his ass yet _another_ time.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about that. I’ll try to pick up a job or something to get you back the money,” Isak says, although as he does he really can’t see how that would work out. It’s nearing the end of the school year, and all his final exams are coming up, so he really can’t afford to devote his time into other things during the week. 

“No Isak, no, stop,” Eskild shakes his head, “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that. I already have something lined up for you. It’s Thursday and Sunday for about six weeks, and it pays enough to make up for last month and this month’s rent.”

 “Really?” Isak can’t imagine how Eskild managed that. To his credit, Eskild lives a pretty private life. Isak doesn’t really know all that much about him, other than the fact that he’s 21 and that they go to the same university. It kind of makes Isak feel like a shitty friend.

"Mhm, it’ll be great for you,” Eskild says, and it looks like he’s trying to keep a smirk off of his face.

Isak’s stomach drops.

He knew it was too good to be true. Silly him, thinking that Eskild lined him up with a job at the local grocery store, or something mundane like dogsitting. He should’ve known that it would be something weird and out there and probably involves something with nudity.

“Eskild, I swear to god, if this has _anything_ to do with porn-”

“No, for fuck's sake Isak, who do you think I am?” Isak scoffs, which earns him a glare.

“Well then, what is it?”

Eskild rolls his eyes, and stands up, throwing his hands up before facing Isak and sinking into a hip.

“I can’t believe you’re giving me all this attitude after I’ve so kindly offered you a way to reimburse me for valiantly paying _your_  rent with _my_  money,” he puts his hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “You wound me, Issy, really.” 

Isak just stares at him.

“Fine! Fine, alright,” Eskild puts his hands in his back pockets. “My friend is an art student at UiO, and said that her life drawing class was in need of a model, so naturally I thought of you.”

Isak doesn’t know all that much about art, but he knows a decent amount. He knows the difference between Van Gogh and Picasso, knows that Monet had a garden in France, and that Leonardo Da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa. He doesn’t really know the difference between acrylics and oils, but he does know what being a model for a drawing class implies.

“You want me tomodel  _naked_  for your friend’s class?”

Eskild claps his hands, “Yes! That’s exactly what it is!”

Isak’s mouth pops open, and he scrambles into a sitting position.

“Eskild, are you _insane?_ ”

“No, Isak, have you seen your bone structure? It’s actually ridiculous, and deserves to be shared with the world.”

“Are you kidding me? By being naked in front of _strangers-_ ”

“God, Isak, you’re so dramatic, it’s not like it’s something sexual. You’ll be looked at in the most objective way possible, it’s for the art for Christ’s sake,” Eskild groans as Isak flops onto his back and pulls a pillow over his head, and comes to sit back down on the bed.

“Look, Isak, you know how much I care about you,” this causes Isak to begrudgingly peek out from under his pillow. “And I just want to help you out, because I actually enjoy your dirty teenage boy company,” Eskild smiles at Isak’s half hearted attempt to kick his thigh. “So please, just do it. It’s only for a couple of weeks, and then you never have to see these people again. I don’t want to see you get stressed out trying to find another job while studying for your finals.”

Isak is hit with another wave of affection for Eskild. He weighs the pros and cons in his head: on one hand, the idea of being naked is totally terrifying. On the other hand, he doesn’t really have another option. He knows that if he really, really didn’t want to do it, Eskild wouldn’t make him and would most likely not pester him about it. But the guilt of two months rent unpaid is like a rock at the bottom of his stomach, so it’s more his subconscious speaking when he says,

“Fuck, okay.”

Eskild brightens up immediately, “Really? Great! Okay, I’ll text Marianne that you said yes right now, she’ll be thrilled.” He gets off the bed, phone already in hand. Isak is starting to regret saying yes already.

“Just think about it, Isak, how it could be such an ego boost! All these trained art students drawing you, with all that concentration,” Eskild smirks. “You could meet a cute artist there, who knows? I’m excited, baby gay.”

“I can’t imagine why, Eskild. It’s just modelling,” Isak says, more to reassure himself. His skin crawls at the idea of being bared for these people to see, to scrutinize and concentrate on. But before he knows it, Eskild is whisking out of his room.

“Try to shower and have your hair look presentable, Isak. I don’t mind being around stinky, smelly boys like you, but other people might not!”

“Fuck you,” Isak grumbles, to which Eskild responds,

“You know where the art wing is, don’t be late!”

Isak’s door creaks shut, and he’s left sitting on his bed staring at where Eskild was just standing.

“What the fuck,” he says to himself, a little astonished. He runs a hand through his hair and pushes a breath out from between his lips. He falls back on the bed, and laughs to himself -a little hysterically- when his phone buzzes. When he grabs it, an unknown number pops up on the screen. 

**Unknown**

_**Unknown, 21:39** _

_Hi Isak, this is Marianne, Eskild’s friend. I really appreciate u doing this. The classes are Thursday, 18:00 to 20:00 and the Sunday classes are 19:00 to 21:00. It would be great if u could come in about 15 minutes before class starts, they get pretty full!_

Isak’s stomach flip flops at the words _pretty full_. How many people could possibly be taking this class? But even as he asks himself that, he knows it’s a stupid question. There are thousands of students at UiO, himself and his friends included. It’s only natural for there to be a lot of art students. He steels himself, and answers back.

**Marianne**

**_Isak, 21:45_ **

_?halla, this is Isak. that shouldn’t be a problem, I can definitely come in those days. can u just tell me the room number_

**_Marianne, 21:46_ **

_When u get inside, just go up the stairs and it’s the first studio on the right, room 135A. Dont worry about bringing a robe, we have one for you (unused ofc, lol)_

Isak types out _cant wait_ before deleting it. Why would he say “can’t wait”? It’s not as though he’s excited to get naked in front of all these random students. He shakes his head and starts to type out _cool_ before deleting that too. He doesn’t want to come off as an asshole, like he’s the one doing them a favor rather than the other way around. He settles on _see u then_ and presses send, silencing his phone before shoving it underneath his pillow in contempt. He then realizes that he should charge it overnight, and fumbles blindly for it before grabbing it and plugging it in, placing it face down on his night stand. He burrows under the covers, pulling his comforter up to his chin and his hood over his eyes, and tries not to think about how Thursday is only three desperately short days away.

It doesn’t really work.

 ***

_Tuesday, 15:30_

“ _Nude modelling?”_

Isak groans, tipping his head back as Jonas cackles next to him. They’d met up outside the science wing after their respective classes had finished, and are currently walking to the nearest kebab joint.

“I can’t believe he roped you into that, bro,” Jonas shakes his head in disbelief, his curls sticking to his temples from the rain that had stopped a couple of minutes before.

“It’s not like I had a choice,” Isak retorts, shifting his jacket in his arms. The humidity is making everything sticky, and Isak grimaces as he peels his shirt off of his back. “I’m two months late on rent, and Eskild-” 

“Seriously? Two months? What’s wrong with you?”

“Fuck off, I know. But yeah, Eskild picked up my slack so I owe him,” Isak shrugs as they cross the street, “It’s not ideal but I don’t have time to look for anything else.”

Jonas rolls his lips in and furrows his brows before nodding.

“It could be worse, yeah,” Jonas nudges him, raising those thick eyebrows at him, “At least you get paid to just stand around. How hard can it be?”

Isak laughs as they turn into the kebab place. It’s nice to hang out with Jonas, especially what with all the pressure from school. It’s a much needed break in routine for Isak. As they stand in line, Isak glances over at his friend. Even now, after three years, something still twists in his heart when he looks at Jonas. Maybe it’s the guilt for what he did to him and Eva. He still wishes to this day that he hasn’t. The fact that Eva forgave him, and went as far as to not tell Jonas makes him feel pathetically grateful- he isn’t sure where he’d be without Jonas in his life. Watching him shuffle in line, frizzy brown curls everywhere and forehead shining with sweat, Isak is pretty sure the hollow feeling in his chest is no longer from the unrequited love he once felt. He assumes it’s more from the guilt. He wonders if Jonas would forgive him for what he’d done. Maybe if Isak had come clean initially, but now? Everything’s been buried underneath three years worth of new memories, and Isak can’t bring himself to unearth something after so long. It feels too heavy. The fact that he isn’t sure of Jonas’ forgiveness makes his mouth dry, so he pushes it to the back of his mind.

“What do you want?” Isak startles, looking over at Jonas, who’s looking back at him expectantly.

“I’ll just get whatever you’re having. Do you want me to grab us drinks?” Isak asks, and heads over to the fridge when Jonas nods in affirmation.

Isak grabs two water bottles and waits by the door of the restaurant. If Isak squints, he can see the University of Oslo’s main campus in the distance. It’s not a particularly intimidating place, but with what’s going to occur tomorrow, it looks more on the ominous side. Isak has to fight the urge to stomp his feet in protest at the idea.

“Ready to go?” Isak nods and follows as Jonas walks past him and out the door. They trade, Jonas giving Isak a kebab for a water, and they make their way to the bus stop. They walk in silence for awhile, eating and enjoying each other’s company.

Jonas turns to him, “You’re not too uncomfortable with this, right?”

Isak’s face twitches into a smile. For all the teasing he gets from Jonas, he knows that he really cares about him.

“No, not really. If anything, it’ll help motivate me to stay in shape,” Isak jokes, which earns an amused huff from Jonas.

“Fair enough.”

Once they approach the bus stop, Isak takes the time to throw out his wrapper and take a swig from his water bottle before leaving.

“I’ll text you later?” Jonas nods in affirmation, busy trying to find his bus card.

“Yeah, that's fine. I’ll talk to you later,” Jonas says as Isak spins on his heel and heads down the street. “Oh, and Isak!”

Isak turns around, squinting up at his friend, who’s half hanging off the bus.

“What?”

“Have fun tomorrow!” Isak can hear Jonas’ cackle as Isak flips him off, making his way down the hill.

***

Thursday, 17:45 

Isak has been standing in front of the art building for at least five minutes.

He had woken up this morning with a pebble of dread in his stomach, which has slowly but surely grown into a boulder. He’d agonized over what to wear when he realized that there was actually no point in doing so because he was going to be _naked_ for two hours. Naked, in front of a bunch of people his age, for them to draw and stare at. Christ. It’s safe to say he’s been dragging his feet the whole day.

He’d left the kolletktiv around 16:45, allowing himself ample time to loiter around the campus and walk out his nerves. University of Oslo’s campus is beautiful, sure, but there’s only so much to see before it gets repetitive. After his second lap around the art and science wing, Isak finally decided to stop.

He looks up at the building, which isn’t typically foreboding, but what with the dreary weather and his impending nudity awaiting inside, he thinks that he could bear not going in. But when he checks his phone for the time, he knows that he’s at the end of his rope. Knowing him, it’ll take him a good five minutes to navigate his way to the studio, and then another five stalling outside the door, so with a deep breath Isak shoves open the door and goes inside.

The lobby is quiet save for a janitor sweeping in the hallways, and the hum of the lights. To Isak’s left, there’s the staircase he assumes Marianne was talking about, and with a final glance around he jogs up to the second floor. When he exits the stairwell, he hears music coming from his right. He peers around the corner and is greeted by two large wooden doors with yellow light streaming out. He hears soft voices conversing, and the sound of chairs being dragged across the floor. He glances at Marianne and his’ text thread to make sure the room number is right, and then looks up at the door. Low and behold, the number _135A_ is scratched into the wood, next to one of the small windows. With a rolling stomach, he pushes the door open.

When the door bangs shut, a girl and a guy look up from where they’re both hunched over a desk. The girl brushes her bangs out of her eyes and grins, teeth white against the deep blue of her lipstick. He shrugs his hoodie off on the coat rack by the door while she rushes over, sticking out her hand. Isak has to tip his chin into his chest to look down at her.

“Hi, you must be Isak!” He tries to return her grin, but he’s pretty sure it comes out more as a grimace.

“You must be Marianne," Isak says, before remembering his manners. "Hi."

“Yes, that would be me,” she releases his hand to clasp hers together, “I can’t tell you how grateful we are that you’re able to do this, we really appreciate it.”

Isak wants to point out that no, it wasn’t really his choice, and more than that, he’s getting _paid_ to do this, but he doesn’t want to sound rude so he says, “No problem at all.”

“Cool! Here, follow me, I’ll show you where you can leave your clothes and get changed and whatnot.”

His heart stutters in his chest as he blindly follows her. As he does, he takes the time to inspect the room. It’s pretty big, and has these big industrial pipes lining the ceiling, with strips of fluorescent lights in between. However, the lights aren’t on, rather coming from these huge box lights and random lampshade-less lamps scattered around. On one end of the room, there’s a room divider screen set up near the supply closet, adjacent from where there a bunch of easels leaning on the wall. On the other end, there are sinks and racks of paint and clay and other art things Isak doesn’t have a clue about. In the middle, however, seems to be the main attraction. There’s an elevated stand in the middle, and on top of it is a box with a deep red fabric draped over it. There are a few lights set up around it, and around the lights are a tangle of conventional easels and weird wooden benches. They all form a circle around the stand, with enough space between them that no one’s view will be obscured. It dries out Isak’s throat.

“You can change behind here, Isak,” Marianna gestures to the divider, calling Isak’s attention back to her. He nods and shifts his bag onto his shoulder.

“Uh, do you have a robe, or?” he trails off, waving his hand uselessly at himself.

“Shit, of course, yea we do. Anders, could you grab the robe for me?” The boy comes over, icy blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail. He hands a simple silky robe to Isak, wrapped in plastic and clearly unopened. Isak glances at the two of them.

“This looks nice, I hope it wasn’t too much?” he tries, at a loss for words. Should he be thanking them? It looks like good quality, but then again, who is Isak to know? The situation is surreal.

Anders smiles, which makes Isak feel a little less intimidated. “It’s not a big deal. We usually don’t buy our models robes, but we really appreciate you doing this so last minute.”

Isak nods, feeling slightly less guilty. They stand there for an awkward beat before Marianne claps her hands and says, “Let’s let Isak get changed, yeah? Everyone will be showing up around now.”

Isak swallows the aborted noise building in his throat and scurries behind the screen. He tears open the package holding the robe and tosses it over the top of the divider, and slowly started to undress. He can hear people start to flood in, and the increase in volume of chatter and he fumbles with his zipper. He looks over at where his shirt is slopped over his bag, so shoves down his boxers and jeans in one go and tries to fold them semi neatly next to his shoes. He finally takes off his socks, and then stands up straight. It sort of hits him then, he’s stark naked in a room full of strangers. He pinches himself to make sure this isn’t some weird dream he’s in, and then pulls on the robe. He’s so wound up he can’t even appreciate how soft it is.

He wanders out from behind the divider to go to the center of the room, where all the art students are beginning to collect. He luckily doesn’t see any familiar faces, and tries to find Marianne. He spots her jet black bob talking to some other girl, and she turns when he taps her shoulder.

“Isak! What’s up?”

He scratches the back of his neck, because he doesn’t really know what to ask. He opts for honesty.

“Uh, I’m not quite sure how to do this? Like what should I do up there?”

She makes a sympathetic sound. “It’s okay you’re nervous, Isak,” if she sees him flush, she doesn’t say. “I’ll guide you through it. You’re gonna be holding different poses for different amounts of time; sometimes for two minutes, sometimes for five, maybe even twenty. I’ll tell you when to change, and how to position yourself. I’m pretty sure you don’t know the different postures I’ll be asking, right?” Isak shakes his head. “Okay, so basically there are dynamic stances and neutral stances. I’ll tell you what I want you to do, like if you should lift your arms or turn your body, and you’ll eventually catch on. Trust me, okay?”

Isak nods, and feels a little weight pulled off his shoulders. Marianne checks her watch.

“Alright, get on the stand please, we’re gonna start now.”

Isak feels all the blood drain from his face as all the students shuffle around and get situated by their easels. Isak shakily climbs up on the stand, and looks to Marianne for instruction.

“Alright, we’re gonna start with three five minute dynamic poses, cool?” A bunch of assenting murmurs break out. “Okay, Isak, I want you to stand with your feet shoulder width apart, and twist your body to face the clock behind you. Reach your right arm out to the clock, too. Got it?”

Isak nods, and his hands go to the knot on his robe. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shucks the robe off.

To his surprise, no one giggles or scoffs or makes any comments. No one is leering at him. Instead, they all seem to be waiting for him to position himself so they can begin, completely dettached. He feels the tension drain from his muscles a little, twists around, and hold still. He can hear Marianne set her timer on her phone, and everyone begins to work.

The room is silent except for the scratch of charcoal and pencil on paper. He stares at the clock for the first minute, but then his eyes start to wander. After he realizes there’s really nothing interesting to look at on the wall, he starts to realize how his arm is kind of burning. And how his calf in his right leg is straining. And how his nose is itchy. He glances at the clock again, and sees he still has two minutes left. _Fuck._ He spends the next two minutes trying to think of everything except his nose being itchy, and lets out a sigh of relief when the timer goes off.

He straightens up, cracks his knuckles and back, and blessedly scratches his nose. The next two rounds go by fairly quickly, Marianne having him hold a scarf around his neck, and then having him with his arms wrapped around his body and hunched over.

There’s about ten two minute poses he’s asked to do that go by in a blur, and eventually they reach the final two twenty minute poses.

Marianne comes up and asks Isak to cradle his head in his arms and tilt his head towards the ceiling. In those twenty minutes he just thinks about what Isak in a parallel universe is doing. Perhaps he’s also modelling naked for an art class. Maybe _he’s_ the art student. Maybe he fucking paid his rent on time and didn’t have to be here. Who knows.

At long last they reach the final pose. Isak is sitting with his back straight and feet flat on the ground with his hands resting on his thighs. He’s facing the front of the room now, and lets his gaze wander. He’s been pretty good at not staring at the students as they work, when suddenly his eyes get caught on a boy in the back.

His heart stutters in his chest, because _wow._

The boy is a giant, for one. He’s almost taller than his easel, and Isak can see that he’s bent slightly at the knees to properly face his paper. He probably shouldn’t find that as endearing as he does. He’s wearing a simple black tee shirt, and his hoodie and jacket are slung over some unused bench. His hair is swooped up, away from his face, and he has a pencil tucked behind his ear which _should_ make Isak roll his eyes, but doesn’t. It makes his heart squeeze a little. Then there are his hands. Christ, he has these long fingers that are precariously holding this thin little piece of charcoal, and somehow he’s drawing without breaking it. And Isak remember that the boy is drawing him. Naked. And that, in a different situation, the boy’s fingers and Isak’s naked body could be associated differently.

But then the boy’s eyes flicker to Isak, and Isak averts his eyes in a heartbeat. He is suddenly painfully aware of how naked he is, and feels a flush go all the way down his chest. He wills all of the blood to at least avoid his dick, because a boner in front of nearly thirty people would probably make him melt into a puddle of shame.

All of the sudden, everyone’s standing up and gathering their things. Isak immediately slouches, rolling his head back and forth. He searches around for his robe and ties it before standing up. As he makes his way off the stand, he gets to see some of the students’ drawings, and he takes a little inhale. They aren’t what he was expecting. The some of drawings are abstract and small, while others take up the whole page. They’re all gestural and captivating. Isak had been scared that they would pick up on how his ribs stuck out a little, or how his shoulders were pointy. Looking at these drawings, he feels more comfortable with the prospect of future classes.

“It’s not often you get to see yourself the way others see you,” Isak startles and turns around to face who’s talking to him. He stutters a breath in when he realizes that the boy standing in front of him is the boy in the back of the class.

Isak clears his throat, “Yeah, it’s cool. Didn’t expect for them to look like this.”

The boy laughs, “I guess you can’t _really_ ever predict what the end product will look like.”

Before Isak can ask him to elaborate, or even ask his name, Marianne calls his name. When he turns back around, though, the boy is walking away towards the door, hoodie and jacket in hand. Isak shakes his head to clear it, and goes to get dressed. After putting on his shoes, he checks his bag to make sure he has everything, and meets Marianne at the sinks. 

“How was it?” She doesn't turn away from the sink, but glances in his direction.

“Not as bad as I expected,” he says, to which she laughs.

“It can be intimidating for sure. You did great though, don’t worry about it.”

Isak smiles, “Thanks. I’m gonna head out.”

After exchanging goodbyes, Isak grabs his hoodie and goes, taking a deep breath once he gets outside.

He starts making his way to the kollektiv, and feels around his pocket for his headphones when his fingers catch on a piece of paper. He frowns and pulls it out, unfolding it to see what it is.

It’s a small cartoon drawing of him today in class, and what appears to be the boy he was talking to. Over the easel is a big question mark, and underneath the cartoon is scrawled:

_What will the end product look like?... Even_

Isak smiles, and folds it up neatly. He plugs his phone in, shoves his hands in his pockets, and strolls back home. He keeps the note firmly pressed to the palm of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea popped into my head out of nowhere a couple of days ago, and I decided to run with it because it was such a fun concept.  
> title is from Years & Years "Take Shelter"  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated, see you with the next update<3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak tries to find out more about Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's starting to pick up y'all

_Friday, 14:00_

Isak has looked at the sketch from Thursday enough times that he could probably recreate it with his eyes closed (even with his lack of artistic skill). He’s only been up for an hour, and the first thing he did when he woke up was feel around under his pillow until he grasped the piece of paper.

Upon looking at it again, there seem to have been a surprising amount of effort put into the little drawing. He wonders how the boy, _Even_ , was able to throw it together so fast. As far as Isak’s concerned, he wasn’t sitting there staring blankly into space too long after the twenty minutes were over. Perhaps Even drew it before the class ended, which would mean he was planning on using that line with Isak, which would mean he was planning on _approaching_ Isak. The thought makes his belly warm. 

There’s a little seed of doubt in his mind, however. He doesn’t really know anything about this boy. For all he knows, this could be a ploy to get Isak to sleep with him. After all, the boy doesn’t know anything about Isak other than knowing he gets naked for people to draw him. What if he thinks Isak is some narcissistic asshole who wants people to stare and draw his naked body? God. Isak needs to start his day. 

He sets the drawing on his nightstand and grabs his phone. He has a missed call from Eva, and a handful of notifications from his group chat with Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi. He checks his texts first. 

**The Boys**

**_Mahdi, 13:30_ **

_Happy Friday boyzzz_

**_Jonas, 13:32_ **

_Do u guys wanna meet up for kebabs after classes?_

**_Mahdi, 13:32_ **

_i’m down_

_Magnus? Isak?_

  ** _Jonas, 13:33_**

  _Dont expect Isak to answer, he wont be up for_ _2 hours at least_

Isak makes an offended noise and continues reading.

**The Boys**

**_Mahdi, 13:35_ **

_Lol, ur right_

_Magnus?_

**_Magnus, 13:40_ **

_Fuck, sorry guys. Im down for it, what time and where we meeting?_

**_Jonas, 13:47_ **

_We could meet outside the science wing?_

**_Mahdi, 13:50_ **

_Thats fine with me_

**_Magnus, 13:53_ **

_Ok, sure. What time?_

With the lull in the conversation, Isak takes this moment to interject.

**The Boys**

**_Isak, 14:10_ **

_Fuck off_

_I hate u all_

_We can meet up at the collective and go from here_

**_Jonas, 14:12_ **

_He rises!_

**_Mahdi, 14:13_ **

_Good morning sunshine_

**_Isak, 14:15_ **

_Fuck off_

_What time are u guys coming over_

**_Mahdi, 14:16_ **

_on my way now_

**_Jonas, 14:16_ **

_me too, be there in 10?_  

**_Isak, 14:17_ **

_ok_

He closes his texts and checks his voicemail. There’s one recent missed call from Eva with no voicemail, so he assumes it was a butt dial, and there are five unopened voicemails from Mamma from the past week. His thumb hovers over the play button, before he deletes the messages one by one. He sighs, and gets up to get dressed. By the time he pulls on his shoes, Jonas texts him that he and the boys are waiting outside, so Isak grabs his wallet, and after a second of contemplation, folds up the drawing and slides it neatly in with his cards, and heads to the door.

“Bye Eskild, bye Linn, I’m going out for kebabs!”

Eskild pops his head out of his room.

“Can you bring one home for me? Please? For your guardian angel?”

Isak rolls his eyes, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you, Issy. I’ll see you later,” Eskild blows him a kiss as Isak closes the door behind him.

He jogs down the stairs to where Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus are all talking. He smiles and starts to say hello when Magnus interrupts him.

“Holy fuck, Isak, you’re a _nude_ model now? What, are you some type of porn star or some shit?”

Isak feels the smile slide right off of his face, and whips around to face the two other boys who are snickering to themselves.

“ _Jonas!”_

“What!” he laughs, clearly not sympathizing with his friend. “You didn’t think you’d be able to hide it from them for six weeks did you?”

Isak presses his fingers to his brow, feeling a blush stain his face. “No, I didn’t think so, and I didn’t plan on _hiding it_ , but I would’ve appreciated being the one to _tell them._ ”

Before Jonas can respond, Magnus interjects, clearly picking up on the building tension. “Be honest, Isak, you would’ve never told us about this gig. None of us really care, I’m just jealous that I don’t have chicks drawing my hot body.”

For all of Magnus’ obliviousness, he always is good at dispelling potentially uncomfortable situations. Isak laughs, and by some silent agreement they all start to walk. He nudges Magnus’ shoulder.

“No one would want to look at your naked body, Mags, don’t stress,” he says, which earns him a shove back and a highly offended noise from Magnus. Jonas and Mahdi cackle on either side of him, and inevitably Magnus starts to smile, too. It’s a good way to spend his Friday.

***

_Friday, 17:30_

“Eskild, I’m home,” Isak says, toeing off his shoes by the door. “I have food for you.”

“I’m in the kitchen, Isak!” Eskild calls, and Isak goes, putting the food on the table before shouldering off his jacket and draping it over the chair.

"Thank you,” Eskild says, glancing over his shoulder from where he’s grabbing a glass from the cabinet with a delighted grin. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No, I’m okay,” Isak settles into the chair. Eskild comes over with a glass of water, and as he sits down Isak slides the bag of food over to him. Eskild smiles brightly and tucks in with relish while Isak scrolls through his notifications on his phone. Eskild looks up suddenly, as if he’s remembered something.

“Hey Isak?”

“Hm?” He mumbles non committedly, squinting at the screen.

“Do you have a spare laundry card? Mine ran out and Noora doesn’t know where she put hers, and Linn is holed up in her woman cave and I’m too scared to knock.”

Isak laughs, and then blindly reaches around the back of the chair to pull out his wallet from his coat pocket. He tosses it across the table to Eskild.

“You can check if you want, if I put it anywhere it would be in there.”

Eskild glances at him for affirmation before flipping through Isak’s cards. He finally finds the laundry card, but when he pulls it out, a small piece of paper flies out and flutters onto the table. They both stare at it, and it dawns on Isak that the paper is the sketch Even slipped into his bag. Before he grab it though, Eskild picks it up.

“No, Eskild, don’t-”

“Why? What is it?” Eskild smiles slyly at Isak, who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“It’s nothing, just give it back.”

“If it’s nothing, why can’t I see it? Can’t I look at nothing?” He starts to unfold the paper.

“ _Eskild-_ ”

But it’s too late and Isak is left staring at Eskild, who’s staring at the drawing. A small smile twitches on his lips, and he peeks up at Isak, then back to the paper, then to his face again, then back to the paper. 

“Who’s Even, Issy?” Eskild asks, that stupid grin still plastered to his face. Isak’s face flames up, and he considers trying to snatch the paper back from Eskild’s fingers, but he doesn’t want to risk ripping the drawing so he curls his hands into fists.

“No one, Eskild, drop it already,” Isak groans through his teeth. “Can I have the drawing back, please?”

“No, not until you tell me who this is,” Eskild appears to be having far too much fun. Isak groans, sinking down in his chair as he weighs his options. It’s not so much that he doesn’t trust Eskild, because Eskild is one of the people he trusts the _most_ , but it’s more that he doesn’t want to jinx whatever this note means. If he talks about it, he’s openly admitting that he’s interested in Even. If he says it out loud, and people know about it, it makes it real. But looking at Eskild, who underneath all that jest is looking earnestly at Isak, makes him break a little.

“Fine! Fine, ok, there’s this- there was a boy from the art class who-”

“See?” Eskild claps his hands, looking delighted. “I told you you’d meet someone there!”

Isak rolls his eyes, “No, Eskild, it’s not like that.” When Eskild doesn’t further interject, he continues. “We didn’t even talk for long, he just slipped that into my hoodie when he walked out I guess.”

Eskild lets what Isak said sink it, chewing on his lip. “So you don’t know anything about him.”

“Yea.”

“But you just said you didn’t.”

“Agh, no- I meant yes, I don’t know anything about him.”

“Then why didn’t you just say no?”

“ _Eskild._ ”

“Okay, okay, sorry. What are you gonna do about it?”

Isak looks at Eskild.

“What do you mean?”

Eskild stands up, empty food tin in hand, and walks over to the garbage bin. “I mean, how are you gonna find him? Have you looked him up?” He looks over and rolls his eyes at Isak’s perturbed expression. “It’s not stalking, Isak. Just check the art class facebook page and see if there’s anyone named Even there.”

Isak opens his mouth to retort, before closing it. It’s not a bad idea, and Isak is a little annoyed that he didn’t think of it himself. Eskild, seemingly pleased with Isak’s speechless state, trots out of the kitchen with a “See you later, Issy!” thrown over his shoulder.

Isak sits at the table for another minute before grabbing his wallet and drawing, heaving up, and going to his room. After shutting the door behind him, he puts his things down on his nightstand and flops on the bed. He reflects on what Eskild said to him, trying to gauge how stalker-esque searching Even’s name could _really_ be. Surely not too bad, right? He leans over the edge of the mattress to grab his laptop, and makes as far as typing the letter “E” into the Facebook search bar before slamming it closed. He groans, sliding it as far out of reach as he can. He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Why is he so caught up on this boy? It wasn’t as if they had an in depth conversation about anything meaningful. But every time he thinks of the way Even’s head tilted to the left when he smiled, his stomach feels like it’s glowing, and maybe that’s enough of a reason.

 ***

_Saturday, 15:40_

Isak’s been studying in the university library for at least two hours. It’s not so much that he _avoided_ studying, it’s just that he had prioritized other things instead. Like obsessing over naked modelling. And thinking about some mysterious boy named Even. Those seem like reasonable excuses.

He has two textbooks open in front of him, and a document opened on his laptop that he continues to refer to. Sana, bless her soul, sent him a review sheet to fill out that she’d made because she’s a diligent girl who’s good at time management. Isak, unfortunately, doesn’t know half the terms on the sheet, and they don’t seem to show up in either of the textbooks Isak picked up.

Frustrated, Isak slams the cover of one of the books closed, which warrants a few annoyed looks from his fellow students. He sneers in response, and runs his hands roughly over his face, letting out a deep sigh. As he looks up, a group of girls pass by, heading out of the study space. Isak hears one of them laugh, and upon further inspection, realizes that one of the girls is Marianne. Before he can say hello or anything, she follows the rest of her friends through the door.

Seeing Marianne reminds him of the class coming up tomorrow, and the thought is shockingly not met with fear. There’s a simmering excitement in his belly at the thought of seeing Even again. Feeling emboldened, Isak opens a new tab, logs into Facebook, and searches for the UiO’s art page. He goes through the photos, clicking on a couple of group photos when he sees him.

Even’s arm is thrown across some girl’s shoulder, dark red bandana pushing his hair out of his eyes. His face is bunched up around a blinding grin, and it cracks something open in Isak’s chest. He checks the photo tags, and low and behold, the name _Even Bech Nӕsheim_ is right there in front of him. However, when he clicks on the page, not much shows up. Sure, he has a profile picture (which Isak spends more than a minute looking at), where he goes to school, and how old he is, but that’s about it. He doesn’t have any family or friends listed, and he only has a couple of pictures on his photo album. Isak scrolls through them, and two of them catch his eye. One of the images is of a movie poster for Baz Luhrmann’s rendition of “Romeo and Juliet”, while the other seems to be an album cover for someone called Nas.

Isak pulls out his phone, and types in a reminder to look up who Nas is when he gets home, and to rent out “Romeo and Juliet” as well.

 ***

_Sunday, 19:00_

“Alright, guys, let’s get ready to start.”

Isak scurries out from behind the divider to get to the stand, when he trips over something. He curses, and when he looks down he makes eye contact with Even. Even, who’s crouched and is picking up a piece of charcoal he must’ve dropped. Even, who also grabbed his ankle to make sure he didn’t fall. Even, who is smiling up at him.

“Sorry about that, I should’ve moved out of the way,” he says in a slow drawl. There’s really no reason he should still be squatting there, Isak thinks dimly, but instead of saying that he nods and flushes.

“It’s fine, I should’ve watched where I was going,” the flush turns brighter when Even laughs.

“I’m the one in the wrong, really. Wouldn’t want my model to be all bruised up,” as he says this, he runs his thumb over Isak’s ankle gently before releasing it, standing up tall and making his way to his easel. Isak just barely manages to not burst into flames.

When he’s on the stand, he’s overly aware of Even’s eyes on him. Isak tries not to stare back, which is made easier when he’s facing away from him. But the thought of his ass being on display for Even to see makes his cock twitch, just a little, and he takes a clarifying deep breath before focusing on the poster of Van Gogh’s sunflower series in front of him.

Isak’s mother always used to tell him that he was like a sunflower, because he was always glowing like the sun, and she knew that he would grow as tall as they did. He would always giggle, and then when he went to the supermarket with his Pappa, they would make sure to bring a bouquet of them home for her. She would light up enough to fill the whole house, and plant kisses all over Isak’s face before putting them in a vase on the table, praising him and Pappa for picking such a lovely bunch. For years there were fresh sunflowers on the table. As soon as there was a sign of them wilting, a new, strong, vibrant bouquet would take their place. Only when things started to get bad were there wilted sunflowers left out on the table. The last time Isak was home, they were completely dead in the vase.

He looks away as the last timer goes off, and all that built up concentration dissipates from the room. Isak stretches his arms over his head, letting out a noise of contentment before grabbing his robe. As he puts it on, he realizes Even’s still focusing on his paper. Not wanting Even to leave first, Isak rushes to get changed, putting his shirt on inside out at first and putting a shoe without his sock. By the time he finishes, and darts out from behind the divider, he sees the back of Even’s jacket turn out the door. With a quick goodbye to Marianne and Anders, he sprints after Even, and slows to a stop when he sees him sitting by the bus stop with his headphones in. Out of breath, he sidles up next to Even, who looks up at him.

“Hi,” he says, pulling out an earpiece. “Do you wanna sit?”

Isak nods, still breathless, and sits next to him, flushing at Even’s laugh.

“Why are you so out of breath?”

 _To catch up with you,_ Isak thinks, but says “I didn’t want to miss my bus, but I’m apparently in the clear.”

Even fixes him with that weird intense stare before the corner of his mouth turns up. “I think you are.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, Isak texting Eskild to make sure he’s home and Even tapping his fingers on his thigh. All of the sudden, Even turns to him.

“Do you wanna listen?”

“Hm?” Isak raises an eyebrow, and Even taked out an earbud.

“Here, listen. Do you know Nas?”

Fuck. Isak meant to look him up after seeing it on Even’s facebook, but he got preoccupied later in the day. He scratches his head. 

“Nas? Yeah, I know him. Nas. Yea, sure.”

Even laughs, his face crinkling up. “You fucking liar.”

Isak scoffs in disbelief as the bus pulls up. "Me? A liar? Never, no.”

Before he knows it, they’re sitting next to each other on the bus, thighs pressed snug against each other listening to all of Nas’ discography. Even pauses here and there, to tell Isak facts about how Nas came up with a certain line, or who he wrote a song about. Isak listens more to Even’s excited commentary than the music itself.

Only after two stops does Isak realize that he didn’t even need to get on the bus, and that he could’ve easily walked home. With a sense of dread in his stomach, he turns to tell Even that he needs to get off, but Even is already talking.

“Nas has contributed to The Get Down. Have you heard of it?”

Isak shakes his head, “Np, is it good?”

“Seriously?” Isak nods, and Even nudges him with his shoulder, “Isak, it’s so good, you really ought to watch it. It's on Netflix. Baz Luhrmann’s in on it too, it’s really incredible.”

Another name Isak should’ve remembered to look up. “Baz?”

“Holy fuck, really? I have to educate you on this, it’s a crime you don’t know about Baz.” Isak smiles sheepishly and presses the button to signal the bus to stop the next stop.

Isak gets up and shakes out his coat when Even says, “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

Even gives him a mock exasperated look. “Because, Isak, I’ve taken it upon myself to educate you about the legendary director that is Baz Luhrmann. Give me your phone.”

Isak hands it over without a second thought, watching Even type his number into his phone. Even calls himself, and then hands it back to Isak. The bus pulls up to the stop, and the doors open. Isak makes his way over to the door before turning around.

“Good night, Even.”

“Good night, Isak.”

He steps off the bus and even though he has to walk a good four blocks back to the kolletktiv, he feels lighter than air.

When he gets home, Eskild has generously left a sandwich on the table for him, which he eats before heading to his room. As he’s crawling under the sheets, he realizes that he never told Even his name, but he knew it anyways. Which either means that Even asked around for his name, or Even overheard it. Both cases make a smile creep onto his face. He reaches to turn off his bedside lamp when his phone buzzes. He laughs at the way Even put his name in, with a small paintbrush and speaker emoji. 

**Even**

**_Even, 22:30_ **

_Hi Isak, thanks for your company. Hope u have taken it upon yourself to watch some of Baz's classics. I dont expect any less from u, pls dont let me down._

Isak smiles and types out a response.

**Even**

**_Isak, 22:31_ **

_Hei Even, thanks for the intro to nas and baz course u so graciously gave me on the bus today. Ill start my homework for the class tomorrow when im not dead on my feet (or in my bed i guess lol)_  

**_Even, 22:31_ **

_Glad to hear it. Besides, u owe it to urself to not deprive urself of quality entertainment. I hope u dream of nas and baz_

_Really tho, sweet dreams_

Isak puts his phone on his nightstand and turns off his lamp. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! second chapter, finally. i really wasn't sure i was gonna get this done on time, but here we are! big thanks to [Karly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/realityiwanted/pseuds/realityiwanted), [Elly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoNight/pseuds/DiscoNight), and [Katie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pansexuaIeven/pseuds/pansexuaIeven) for the final push on this chapter.  
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/twohanndss) to harass me to keep writing. kudos and comments are welcome and always appreciated. i'll try to respond to each one on the last chapter, i've just been incredibly busy. much love xxx <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Even get closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Lara! I finished this pain in this ass chapter up for you<3

_Monday,15:14_

 

Despite having talked on Sunday evening, Isak and Even haven’t carried on their conversation. When Isak woke up on Monday, he was only a little disappointed to not see a text from Even. But Monday was also cleaning day at the collective, which didn’t leave room for Isak to dwell on the conversation. He connected to his bluetooth speaker and cranked the volume particularly high, aggressively sorting his clothes from Eskild’s and folding them. The combination of loud music and his extreme dedication to folding one of his flannels allowed Eskild to sneak into his room without Isak noticing. Cleaning with Eskild meant inevitably talking to Eskild. Eskild, who is very nosy. Eskild, who also knows about Even.

“So,” Eskild starts, sidling up next to Isak as he focuses on the task at hand. Isak startles and squints at Eskild, trying to figure out how he snuck in. Eskild isn’t one for subtlety. Eskild squints back, so Isak spares a glance at him, raises an eyebrow, and returns to his clothes. He finds that if he doesn’t engage with Eskild, he’s more likely to avoid conversation. No such luck, apparently.

“Isak,” he draws out his name, and Isak can feel his gaze burning into the side of his head. When Eskild goes to the speaker and lowers the volume significantly, Isak groans, dropping his shirt mid fold and throwing his hands up.

“Okay, Eskild, what?”

“You haven’t told me anything about Even! And before you get all huffy,” Eskild pins him with a look before Isak can open his mouth to protest, “I saw you checking your phone at least four times while doing the dishes, and you don’t care about anyone’s texts that much. Not even if they’re from Jonas.”

Eskild has a point. Isak isn’t usually all that enthused about things, but he knows that he’s been antsy today, flipping his phone face down and back up to check if he’s got any new notifications, which he hasn’t.

Isak considers talking about Even briefly. After all, Eskild is the only one who even _knows_ about Even, and Isak’s kinda been dying to tell someone about the new, albeit small, development. He’s finding it hard to think of reasons not to tell Eskild.

“We took the tram home together last night,” Isak starts, and grimaces at Eskild’s cooing. “Let me finish, would you?”

“What? I haven’t even said anything-”

“ _Yes,_ but you were about to-”

“ _No-_ ”

“Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

Eskild pouts, but nods slightly, signalling for Isak to continue.

“Well, we ran into each other at the bus stop,” Isak says, pointedly leaving out the fact that it was actually him that sprinted to the bus stop to catch up with Even. Eskild doesn’t need any more ammunition against him. “He told me to listen to some music and watch some director. I have his number now.”

Eskild is staring at him imploringly now. “And did he flirt with you? Could you tell?”

Isak thinks back to class, Even’s warm hand wrapped around his ankle, long fingers stroking the skin there. He thinks about the slow smile that Even wore, the way their thighs pressed together on the bus. He thinks about the last text Even sent him.

“I think so, yeah. I hope so.”

Eskild nods, seemingly satisfied, and heads towards the door. Before he leaves, he turns back to Isak. 

"And since when have you started listening to Nas?" 

 

Wednesday, 16:30

 

The coffee filters were on the top shelf and Isak couldn’t reach them.

Everyone at the apartment was in a bad mood this morning. Noora was sulking over some boy drama within her friend group (Isak made a mental note to ask Sana about that), Linn was particularly moody about whatever existential crisis she was cycling through, and Eskild escalated everyone’s irritation with his antics and drama. Isak, in the name of self preservation, declared that he would everyone’s run errands, which brought a moment of peace to the apartment. He couldn’t have left faster, and upon looking up at it from the street, he could’ve sworn there was a dark cloud surrounding the window.

That brings him to the supermarket at the end of the street. He shifts his basket onto the other arm and tries reaching with his left, but to no avail. He sighs, and puts it on the floor by his feet, studying it. He grabbed Noora two boxes of pasta, one bottle of vodka sauce, and an apple. All Eskild asked for was a bottle of wine and some crackers, but Isak knows that Eskild will complain about not having anything for his crackers, so he grabbed him some brie (Linn calls Eskild a wine mom, while Noora calls him a typical lesbian. Isak doesn’t comment about how weirdly stereotypical that is, but Eskild does it for him, very indignantly.) As for Linn, she asked for cereal and yogurt, nothing else. Isak grabs her a box of granola bars just in case.

Other than all that, he grabbed other food necessities; milk, eggs, bread, bananas, coffee. But now he needs to grab the coffee filters, and although Isak has grown considerably since high school, he’s still not tall enough to reach the damn filters.

_How important are coffee filters anyways, for fuck's sake,_ he thinks, jumping a little in an attempt to just brush the box, which he does. But in doing so, he also pushes the box further back on the shelf. He sort of wants to die.

“It looks like you need some help over here,” a deep voice says from behind him, and Isak knocks a box of macaroni onto the floor with his hip in his haste to turn around.

Low and behold, Even is standing there, looking unfairly good in his work uniform. He seems to be poorly containing his laughter at Isak’s situation.

He tips his chin up defiantly, “Uh, no, I think I’m alright. The goddamn filter is just,” he flounders for a second, “playing hard to get.”

Even laughs, and Isak’s traitorous skin breaks out into goosebumps, while his traitorous stomach turns inside out. He wants to make Even’s laugh his ringtone.

“Is that so?” Even says, raising his eyebrows. Isak blushes against his will, trying to think of a response.

“You’re not very good at seduction, then,” Isak head snaps up, but before he can say anything, Even continues, “You need to coax the coffee filters out. Make them feel like they can trust you.”

Isak scoffs, and Even just smiles, sliding a finger through Isak’s belt loop. Isak’s breath stutters, but all Even does is tug him out of the way before stepping into place. He reaches up, hardly having to go on his toes at all, and plucks the box from the shelf.

He turns to face Isak, “And that’s how it’s done.”

Isak smiles sarcastically at Even, or at least tries to. He has a feeling its more sappy than he wants it to be. “Thank you, you’re my hero.”

When he goes to grab it from Even, Even takes a step back. Isak raises his eyebrows at him, and he returns the gesture.

“I don’t feel properly appreciated for my kindness, Isak,” Even says, and taps his chin.

Isak rolls his eyes, “I told you that you’re my hero, Even, how much to you want me to inflate your ego?”

“I think you should say that I’m your knight in shining armor,” Even ponders, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s supressing a smile, biting his lip. Isak wants to bite it for him.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Me, ridiculous? After what I did for you? Don’t be ungrateful.”

“Now who’s playing hard to get,” Isak snips, lunging forward to grab the box. Even takes a step back and scoffs.

“Say it.”

_“Even-”_

“Isak.”

“Fine! You’re my knight in shining armor, now will you _please_ give me my coffee filters?”

Even smiles, satisfied. “Of course, princess.”

Isak rolls his eyes, ignoring the pink flush that seems to have permanently situated itself on his cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“Come to the front, I’ll ring you up,” Even says over his shoulder, walking down the aisle in two long strides and turning a corner. Isak stands there, dazed, before gathering his belongings and following after him. He looks at all the registers and sees Even bent over one, leaning on the counter. By the time he makes it over to him, Even is standing upright and already has a bag set up.

“Alright, let’s check you out,” Even announces, not quietly, and Isak’s eyes widen as he feels people stare at them. Even’s eyes sweep down Isak’s body briefly, and Isak busies himself with finding his wallet. Of course Even would use double entendre. Everything Even says has more than one meaning.

By the time Isak pulls out his card, Even has already put everything in the bag. Isak hands him the card, and they’re fingers brush as Even takes it from him.

“Okay, here we go,” Even mutters to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he punches in the total. Isak tries, and miserably fails, not to look endeared.

“Done! Here’s your receipt,” Even hands Isak his card and the piece of paper. Isak puts the receipt in the bag, shoulders the hefty bag of groceries and smiles at Even.

“Thanks,” he says softly, distracted by Even staring right back at him.

“No problem, Isak.”

As Isak turns to go, Even catches his elbow.

“And also, I’m not playing hard to get,” Even continues, “I was working on my concentration piece yesterday, and kept my phone in my dresser to minimize distractions. Don’t worry,” he reaches forward to brush his hand along Isak’s brow, “I was thinking of you all day.”

Isak opens his mouth to say something back, but nothing comes out. Even chuckles and walks down towards the produce section. Isak stares at where Even was standing, before heading out of the store.

As he’s walking home, he feels for his keys in his pocket when he feels the crumple of a piece of paper. He frowns, because he knows he put the receipt in the bag. When he draws his hand out, he sees a little folded up drawing. It’s of Isak and Even, but there are two panels. In one, Even grabs the coffee filters for Isak, but in the other, Even asks Isak to get coffee instead. On the bottom of the drawing Even scrawled something.

_Can’t wait to draw you tomorrow._

Isak nearly melts right there on the sidewalk.

 

Thursday, 17:45

 

Isak heads towards the art building deep in thought. In retrospect, it always takes a lot of time to get undressed, put all his clothes in his bag without getting them wrinkled, and step out onto the platform. Maybe he should pull one of those “naked underneath a trench coat” schemes. It would be more manageable. But he doesn’t want to sit bare ass on public transit. Maybe he’ll wear boxers.

He’s in the middle of this train of thought when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Am I interrupting something important?” Even smiles, falling easily into step with him. Isak smiles back, bumping his shoulder.

“Just wondering if I should just come to class in nothing but a trench coat. Seems more practical,” Isak says nonchalantly, revelling in Even’s stumble.

“That could work,” Even offers, coughing. Isak smiles to himself as they walk together. Even jogs ahead a bit, and Isak scrunches his face up in confusion until he sees Even pull open the door and hold it open for him. Isak blushes all the way down to his feet and shuffles inside with a muffled thank you. Even follows, looking mighty pleased with himself.

***

On the platform, with his hands clasped behind his back and his spine curved upwards, Isak starts to think about how relaxed all the students look. Every person at their easel is completely comfortable and focused, no tension at all. He wonders if art classes would’ve soothed his mother when she was going through a particularly rough patch. He holds back the urge to shudder; he’d rather her claw at a canvas than at the walls, or her own body.

He looks at one girl wipe her charcoal stained hands on her already black jeans as she furrows her brow, glances at Isak, and scooches over to get a different angle. She doesn’t even catch his eye, which is slightly off putting. Initially, Isak was scared that too many people would try to look at him, try to make eye contact. Now he realizes that none of them do that at all. It makes him feel like a prop almost, makes him feel used. Sometimes people will thank him after class, which is nice, but it’s a little odd. He feels separated from the class, even though he’s technically part of it. He mentally shakes himself; it’s just to pay Eskild back, there’s no reason to get upset over it.

By the time he gets to stand up straight, he happens to be looking over his shoulder in Even’s direction. Even is straddling one of the art horses, drawing board propped up against the front. His legs are splayed in front of him. His very long legs. Isak musters up all his self control to look away from them at at Even’s face. Even is looking intently at his paper, his hand never ceasing. He glances up at Isak, but unlike the other students, catches his eye and smiles. Isak feels himself warm up as he dares a smile back, before remembering where he is and settling into a poker face. Class goes by considerably faster after that.

***

After class, Isak basically sprints to the divider to get changed. He possibly puts his briefs on backwards, but what matters is that he is dressed in time to catch Even before he leaves. Even is rolling up the papers he drew on as Isak approaches.

“Hi,” he says breathlessly, tapping his heels together to dispel his nervous energy. Even looks up from what he’s doing and grins.

“Halla,” he returns, and proceeds to put his papers carefully in his bag before shouldering it. “Shall we go?”

Isak nods, and as they walk out he belatedly realizes Marianne staring after him with her eyebrows raised. He waves back with a smile before hurrying after Even and his long strides. When they get to the lobby, Even puts a hand on Isak’s hip and guides him out the door, causing Isak to light up a little at the touch. If he thinks that Even slipped something into his pocket, he doesn’t say.

“Are you taking the bus today?” Isak asks, turning to Even when they’re standing out side.

“Nah, not today," Even responds. "I’m meeting an old friend at a bar just a few blocks down,” he pulls out his phone to text said friend, Isak guesses.

Isak tries not to sound too disappointed when he says, “Oh, alright. I’ll see you on Sunday, then?” He doesn’t know how well he succeeded.

When Isak turns back to Even, Even looks appalled at the idea. “You don’t think I would let you walk to the bus stop on your own, right? What type of knight in shining armor would I be?”

Isak lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Of course, how could I think that you would tarnish your name so easily. Lead the way, sir.”

Even does an exaggerated bow, and then offers his arm to Isak, which after a prolonged eyebrow raise from Even, he accepts. They walk arm in arm in comfortable silence, and in no time at all they arrive at the bus stop.

Isak looks up into Even’s face. He tries not to linger on his lips, or his eyes, or the errant curl over his forehead. Rather, he takes his thumb and rubs away the smudge of charcoal on the slope of Even’s nose, which he absolutely does _not_ think is regal. At all. Regardless, Even goes cross-eyed watching him do it, with an unbearably soft expression on his face.

“Can I see you Sunday?” Isak startles, looking at Even’s earnest expression.

“You already will be?” Isak questions cautiously, trying not to get his hopes up.

“No, I know that,” Even says, rolling his eyes fondly, “I want to take you to get dinner before class.”

Isak’s brain short circuits, but his mouth doesn’t because he says “Sure, yea, of course,” before he can think to stop it.

If Even finds his response over-eager, he doesn’t say anything. He simply smiles down at him.

“I’ll see you soon then,” Even brushes his thumb over Isak’s cheek briefly before turning to go in the other direction.

“Sound like a plan,” Isak calls out belatedly, dazed by the encounter. He gets on to the bus without much thought, dropping into a seat. He reaches into his pocket, where he knows he’ll find a sketch. He pulls it out and, heart thudding, unfolds it.

It’s of Even eating at a cafe by himself in one panel, and of Isak joining him in the other. On the bottom is Even’s blocky handwriting.

_You’ll make good company, I know it._

Sunday can’t come fast enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Where the hell have I been???  
> I wanted to say how sorry I am that this took so damn long to publish. I was in quite a bit of a writer's rut for a while, and school was truly kicking my ass. But I promise that I love this story very dearly and have no plans to abandon it at all. Thank you for all the continuous support you all give me, it truly means the world. It makes writing worth while! as per usual, you can find me on twitter @twohanndss and on tumblr @ www.quietisak.tumblr.com  
> kudos and comments expand my lifespan by 5 years xxx <3  
> (also, if you're curious as to what a drawing horse is, [this](http://www.dickblick.com/products/wooden-art-horse/?clickTracking=true&wmcp=pla&wmcid=items&wmckw=52916-1003&gclid=CjwKEAjwja_JBRD8idHpxaz0t3wSJAB4rXW5qQuOkqRzQSokA0klBI_JfKo3kOB9o4qY_LKMMyU-tBoC8JXw_wcB) is what it looks like. It's basically an easel that you can sit on)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Even go on a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiii. please don't hate me.

Friday, 14:30

Isak is a mess during his lab period, to say the least.

He woke up at a relatively normal time, but spent his morning in an “out of character, annoyingly good mood,” Linn so kindly muttered as she moped around the kitchen, grabbing a granola bar before retreating back to her room. He was, admittedly, in a good mood. That good mood may or may not have had to do with the heart emoji Even had tagged at the end of his goodnight text Thursday night. Isak spent so much time sitting at the table, cereal filled spoon poised in front of his mouth but never quite making it _into_ his mouth, staring at the text that he realized he was going to be late to class.

He had ended up leaving the collective five minutes before class started, when the commute to school is actually ten minutes. He tripped over someone’s bag after tumbling into class, hurrying to get to his station, knocking into a desk and nearly dislodging a beaker full of ammonia. He put on his lab coat inside out and snapped the band on the safety goggles in his haste to get them over his head. Once finally situated, he smiles breathlessly, albeit a little sheepishly, at his lab partner, who gives him an unamused once over.

“Long night?” he asks Isak, turning to pull on gloves. “I had to wait for you to start.”

“Sorry,” Isak says, thumbing through the assignment packet. “I got distracted this morning. Thanks for waiting, we can start now and be done before everyone else,” he clicks his tongue, smiling smugly to himself. His partner, again, looks unimpressed, but gives him a tight lipped smile nonetheless. For the majority of the time, Isak is able to push Even out of his head. But if he mentally compares the benedict’s solution to the color of Even’s eyes, no one has to know.

In no time, the bell rings, and everyone in the classroom starts clearing up their lab equipment. Isak carefully picks up his beaker, which is precariously filled with iodine solution, and walks slowly towards the sinks. It’s at that moment that one of his classmates decides to brush past him, effectively jostling his arms and causing the iodine to spill onto his shirt.

“Fuck,” Isak groans, dumping the rest of the contents into the sink. He grabs a fistful of paper towels and wets them under the running water from the sink, dabbing aggressively at the darkening brown spot on his chest before giving up.

“Watch where you're going next time, maybe?” Isak calls to the student, who waves him off with a half-assed apology. He stares at his shirt a little bit longer before sighing loudly, patting at the wet spot one more time before tossing the balled up paper towels in the garbage bin. The stain, with the help of the water, has spread and doubled in size, just to Isak’s luck. He mutters to himself before hiking his bag onto his shoulder, last one out of the classroom. He shifts his bag and slings it so it partially obscures the stain. As he jogs down the stairs, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Jonas.

**Jonas**

**_Isak, 15:00_ **

_jonas can u grab me a spare shirt and meet me in the commons_

_jonas_

_jonas pls_

**_Jonas, 15:01_ **

_fuck off, i saw ur first text_

_ur lucky i haven't left my room yet_

_u owe me_

**_Isak, 15:01_ **

_ur a lifesaver_

_ill buy u kebab_

**_Jonas, 15:03_ **

_whatever_

**_Isak, 15:03_ **

_My hero_

Isak smiles and clicks off his phone, shouldering through the lobby doors. As soon as he steps outside he’s greeted with a gust of hot air, and he grimaces. He flips through his phone as he walks towards the courtyard, double checking his calendar to see if he has any upcoming tests. His phone pings with a new text.

**Even**

**_Even, 15:05_ **

_I reorganized the shelf_

_so short patrons like urself could reach them_

_without needing to charm them down_

Attached to the texts is a blurry selfie of Even at the supermarket he works at. Only half his face is in the image, but low and behold, the coffee filters have moved a shelf lower. Isak’s stomach flutters warmly, and a sappy smile takes over his face. He can’t believe Even, so that's what he tells him.

**Even**

**_Isak, 15:07_ **

_oh my god_

_i cant believe u_

**_Even, 15:07_ **

_I told u i would be a knight in shining armor, did i not?_

Isak is full on grinning at his phone at this point, tripping over the curb and not even caring. He gets the the courtyard and plops down on a bench, slipping his bag off his shoulder, stain momentarily forgotten.

**Even**

**_Isak, 15:08_ **

_u did_

_ur so nice_

_thank u_

_on behalf of all short customers_

**_Even, 15:09_ **

_ <3 _

By the time Jonas gets to the courtyard, Isak’s back is tacky with sweat from sitting in the sun, and the stain has mostly dried. He’s had some girl ask him if he spilled soy sauce on it, and another guy ask if it was coffee. He’s pretty sure that the shirt is unsalvageable at this point and is pondering whether or not he should give it away or throw it out when something lands in his lap.

“Why do you even need this?” Jonas asks. Isak squints up at him.

“I spilled iodine on my shirt, and I don’t want to walk around with a brown stain on my chest all day.”

“Fair enough,” Jonas says, and sits next to him.

“I need to find a place to change, though,” Isak stares at the shirt in his hands. It looks suspiciously like one of his own that he thought he lost at the laundromat a couple of months ago.

“Bro, just change here. No one cares, it’s fucking 26 degrees out. Everyone is wearing next to nothing.”

Isak glares at Jonas, who stares back. After a moment, Isak sighs.

“Fine, alright, whatever,” he mutters, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to Jonas.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because I’m getting changed?”

“Yea, but you could’ve just put it next to you?”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

Jonas makes an affronted noise and Isak smirks to himself. Jonas shakes his head and wipes his brow with the bottom of his shirt, exposing the tan of his stomach. Years ago, Isak’s eyes would’ve immediately zeroed in on the sliver of skin, and he would’ve had to pull his bag into his lap to hide a shifty situation in his pants. Now, though, Isak’s eyes pass over his friend with nothing but a flicker of embarrassment in the back of his mind. He’s shaken from his thoughts by a voice.

“Showing a lot of skin there, Isak,” someone drawls from behind Jonas. Isak looks down, realizing he’s been sitting, bare-chested, with his shirt in his hands, and flushes. The boy who spoke approaches, mouth twisted up in an ugly smirk.

“Hey, Erik,” Isak hears Jonas say, and he quickly pulls the shirt over his head. Erik comes to a halt in front of him.

“Why so shy all of the sudden, Isak?” Isak glances up at Erik, before tugging the rest over his stomach.

“Shouldn’t you be used to being naked in front of everyone by now?” Erik leers at him.

“Don’t be a dick,” Isak snaps, shame curling in his stomach. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not?” Erik asks, tilting his head condescendingly. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t take off my clothes for just anyone.”

“What’s your deal, man?” Jonas says, brows furrowed and lips tugged down. Erik turns to him, and takes a step back from Isak.

“Nothing, just chatting about art. Maybe I’ll drop by your class, check it out,” he says, sweeping his eyes down Isak’s body before walking off.

“What a fucking sleaze,” Jonas remarks, disgust clear on his face.

“Yeah,” Isak says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “Whatever, let’s just go get lunch.”

He tries not to think about it, laughing too hard at Jonas’ stories and shoving Magnus’ shoulder a little too much when they arrive late.

It isn’t that easy.

***

Saturday, 13:00

“A _date?”_

Isak sighs, trying to fight the smile on his face. Eva’s mouth is dropped open across the table from him, and she reaches over their plates to shove at his shoulder.

“Isak! You can’t just casually drop something like that! You have a date tomorrow with an _art student_ , god, how dreamy.”

Isak rolls his eyes, stirring a pack of sugar into his coffee. He and Eva are sat at Trygve, a small cafe on UiO’s campus, after Isak ran to his lab to return the goggles he’d accidentally forgotten to take off. Eva arrived at the cafe about two minutes after lsak did, wearing her exercise gear after Vilde “dragged me out of bed to go on a _run,_ Isak, a run in the morning. Who does that?” Vilde does, apparently.

“I wouldn’t call it a date,” Isak says to his mug instead of to Eva, “He just wants to get dinner. Or hang out? I don’t know exactly. I’m not even sure what time we’re meeting up, but I guess he’ll text me.”

He knows Eva’s squirming in her seat from excitement from the way the chair is squeaking against the floor and he sighs, reaching for another packet of sugar. Eva smacks his hand away, which causes him to look up.

“You’ve already put three packs of sugar in your coffee, Isak. You’re gonna give yourself diabetes.”  
Isak scoffs, but withdraws his hand. “You’re gonna give yourself diabetes,” he mocks under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. How are you and Vilde?” He asks, taking a sip of his coffee and barely masks his grimace. It definitely needs more sugar.

Eva brightens at that, the corners of her mouth twitching up into a smile. Isak knows that Vilde and Eva have always teetered that line between friendship and something more, him having caught them making out with each other one too many times at parties in high school. Vilde always catches Isak off guard with her quiet determination. He can see what Sana and Eva and the rest see in her. He thinks that she would match Eva very well.

“We’re good, as always! She’s been good about taking care of herself, eating well,” Eva says, pausing to take a sip of her drink. She taps her fingers against her mug, and then looks up at Isak. “She’s kind of hard to read. I can’t tell if she’s being affectionate as a friend or as something more.”

Isak hums in response. A lot has changed since high school for Isak; he fits better in his own skin, no longer carrying the guilt and shame of liking boys on his shoulders. It took more than a little coaxing, but after meeting Eskild who was so unashamedly himself and helped him come out to Jonas, it became an easier pill to swallow. After that, he went to Eva, whose face had flooded with a new understanding of the messy events of first year. Once he had covered his close friends (Mahdi nodded and smiled, quiet and reassuring, letting Isak know that nothing had changed in their friendship. Magnus, after a loud and shocked outburst, was quick to let Isak know how fine with Isak’s sexuality he was, but was skeptical of the amount of girls Isak had seemingly pulled), he didn’t feel the need to make a huge statement to the school. Isak has always been a private person, and he didn’t feel the need to broadcast such a personal part of his life to people he hardly knew. But of course it had to go to shit when a first year caught wind of Isak’s preference towards dick, coincidentally after he politely declined her offer to suck his. Suddenly, the fact that Isak Valtersen liked boys was the talk of Nissen. Luckily Isak had his support system intact and the gossip eventually died down. It had irked him, being robbed of being able to choose who knew something so private about him, but he had come to terms with it. There were so many things Isak had been bitter about because of how much he clung to them, and he didn’t want this to add to the list.

But looking at the dejected downturn of Eva’s mouth, and the way she sighs out Vilde’s name, he’s brought back to the longing and pining that he trekked through all of first year. He knows what it’s like to over analyze every smile, every brush of fingers over a shoulder, every lingering glance. He knows what it’s like to hope that a touch is more than a touch. He’s been there. Isak remembers the nights spent with Eskild, slowly opening up to him about his feelings for Jonas.

“He’ll always be straight, Isak,” Eskild had said softly, holding Isak to his chest. “You can’t change that.”

With Vilde and Eva, though, it doesn’t seem as hopeless. He’s seen Vilde stare dejectedly at Eva when she’s wrapped up in another guy. Those stares _are_ lingering, they do have intent. It just needs a little kickstart.

“I could talk to her, if you want?” He suggests, grabbing his fourth packet of sugar to busy himself. He’s able to pour it into his coffee without Eva seeing. She jerks her head up, looking appalled.

“What? _No,_ Isak, you can’t just _tell_ her how I feel-”

“What? No! No, I didn’t mean that,” Isak rushes to say, wanting to clear the air. “I could, you know. Get some info for you. See if she’s into girls for sure? So you’re not pursuing a hopeless cause.” He winces after he says that. That was a little close to home, for them.

Eva doesn’t seem to mind, giving him a sympathetic little smile. She sighs deeply, shoulders falling helplessly.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” She laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. She hesitates, brow furrowing. “But you don’t have any classes together?”

Isak pauses. He hasn’t exactly considered this. If he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t even know what Vilde is studying. Out of all his friends, he’s taking the most isolating courses. Mahdi and Jonas have at least one class together, Jonas studying political science and Mahdi going into international law. Magnus is in the same building for psychology. But Isak is all the way in the science wing, alone with his beakers and physics textbooks. Luckily, he has Sana there once or twice a week, but other than that he has to actively carve out time for his friends, like he did today with Eva.

“Uh,” he trails off, before it strikes him. In high school, Vilde was the head of this club thing, _kosegruppa_ , which surprisingly had a lot of members. He wouldn’t be surprised if Vilde was in another social club in college as well.

“Didn’t you tell me that Vilde was part of the Norwegian Student Association?” Isak asks, looking intently at Eva. She looks confused for a second.

“Yeah, she’s actually president,” she tells him, looking endearingly proud of Vilde. Isak smiles to himself.

“Well, there’s the answer to our problem,” he declares to the mostly empty cafe. “I’ll stop by one of their meetings. Just text me what day they congregate, or whatever.”

“Okay,” Eva nods, smiling. “Thank you, Isak. Really.”

Isak blushes a little, before fishing out some money from his wallet. “No problem, Eva, really.”

Eva’s smile turns into something more sly. “You have to keep me updated on your boy situation, Issy. I didn’t forget, and I won’t forget either.”

Isak groans, but is secretly glad he’s able to talk to her about it. It feels nice to be open about his love life after keeping it so closely under wraps for so long.

“I promise I will. I’ll even let you give me input on what to wear.”

Eva sighs playfully. “Why even bother when he’s going to see you naked after.”

Isak rolls his eyes.

“Of course I will, Isak. Don’t worry about it,” She amends, and they finish their coffee in silence, grinning at each other over the lip of their mugs. It’s a good way to spend a Saturday.

***

_Sunday, 17:30_

Isak can’t remember a time where he was as nervous as he is now.

Well, that’s not necessarily true. He remembers all the times when he was waiting for his exams to be handed back to him, and the time where he thought Jonas had seen the gay porn on his phone browser. He remembers when he was waiting in the hospital waiting room to hear if his mother was okay. He remembers cleaning up broken bowls before his dad got home. All of that seems so long ago, though, and now he’s sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone as he waits for Even to text him.

Even had said that he would pick Isak up at the collective at 17:00, and Isak has been on edge ever since. He changed his shirt a total of four times, settles on a shirt he borrowed from Eskild, with Jesus on the front. Initially he was against the suggestion when Eskild offered it, but upon inspection, it showed his collarbones off nicely and could potentially spark conversation with Even about the print. Who even knows at this point.

Isak nearly jumps off the bed when his phone pings.

**Even**

**_Even, 17:33_ **

_Rapunzel, let down your hair_

**_Isak, 17:33_ **

_?_

**_Even, 17:34_ **

_That was your cue to go to your window_

_Ugh_

_Im outside, is what im trying to say ;)_

Isak wipes his hands on the front of his jeans (the black ones Eskild bought him, that apparently hugged his “nice round ass perfectly. Isak, your body is so cute. I’m endlessly spiteful.”) and grabbed his wallet from his dresser. He can’t remember the last time he was on a date, much less with a _boy._ He thinks the last time he went on a date might have been with Sara, and that hardly counted. She’d spent the whole time trying to kiss him, and he barely got away with the feeble excuse that he had a cold and didn’t want to give it to her. It was painfully awkward, and the idea that this date could potentially go the same way made his stomach churn. To be fair, though, he was also painfully closeted back then, and is decidedly not closeted anymore. Hopefully it goes better.

“I’m going, Eskild. Even’s here,” Isak calls out, grabbing his keys off the counter in the kitchen. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”

“Wait!” Eskild tumbles out of his bedroom, clinging to Isak’s arm to keep his balance. Once he rights himself, he gives Isak a once over.

“You look good, Issy. Not that it matters, since he’ll be seeing you naked later,” Eskild adds with a lewd wink. Isak rolls his eyes, but gives him a kiss on the cheek anyways.

“Bye, guru,” he says as he heads out the door.

“Have fun, baby gay! Be safe!” Isak hears Eskild shout behind him. As he descends he sees Even leaning against a light post, looking like sex with his jean jacket and mile long legs. He seems to be texting someone, but at the sound of Isak’s approaching footsteps, he looks up. His grin takes up his whole face, and it’s a knee jerk reaction for Isak to smile stupidly back.

“Hi,” Isak says, coming to a stop before him. He rocks on his heels, already giddy.

“Hi,” Even returns, eyes drifting down to the sweep of Isak’s collarbones. “Shall we go then?”

Isak nods, and Even’s mouth quirks up into a smile again.

“We’re gonna walk to the cafe, if that’s alright with you. It’s not that far, and the weather is gorgeous,” Even tells him, glancing at Isak.  
“Cool,” Isak says. “Lead the way.”

Even starts to head down the sidewalk, and Isak jogs to catch up with him. Even doesn’t grab his hand, to Isak’s mild disappointment, but walks close enough that they’re knocking into each other, backs of each other’s hands brushing. It’s like he’s giving Isak the option of whether or not they can hold hands. Isak almost does.

He ultimately doesn’t, but Even seems okay with that.

“Do you live with roommates?” Even asks, turning to look at Isak. “The apartment you live in seems kind of big for just one person.”

“Yea, I live in a shared flat with three other people; Eskild, Linn, and Noora,” Isak says, smiling at his feet. “I moved into the basement in my second year, and then when Noora moved to London, I took her room. She’s back now, though, so we’re all kind of cramped in.”

Even laughs, “I’m sure you are. Where did you go to high school?”

“Oh, I went to Nissen.”  
“I actually almost transferred there my third year,” Even tells him, looking away. The corner of his mouth turns down almost imperceptibly. Isak squints at him, but decides not to press.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I ended up sticking it out at Bakka. But who knows, we could’ve been friends,” Even’s smile reappears, not as bright but still genuine.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Isak scoffs, rolling his eyes. Someone like Even would’ve never meshed with Isak.

“Why say that?” Even peers down at him, seemingly oblivious to the glaring obviousness of the situation.

“Because! You’re all _that_ ,” Isak gestures to Even’s jacket, with his cigarette tucked behind his ear, his predatory gate, “And I’m, uh,” Isak trails off, “Besides, you’re a year older than me. That adds to the evidence that you wouldn’t have noticed me.”

“Hm,” Even muses contemplatively. He suddenly takes two large steps ahead of Isak, and squats to grab something by a tree. Isak nearly loses his balance at the loss from his side. Before Isak can ask what happened, Even is back by his side.

“Stand still,” Even commands, and Isak obeys, hands fidgeting by his sides. Even’s tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he tucks something behind Isak’s ear. Isak’s eyes shift behind Even and land on a small patch of dandelions. Isak’s heart stupidly flutters in his chest and he peeks up at Even, who’s looking down at him steadfastly, hand still by his ear.

“I definitely would’ve noticed you. How could I not when you look like you’re made of sunshine?” and with that Even’s hand is gone and he’s walking ahead, leaving Isak dazed and rooted to the spot he was standing in.

“Come on, we have to grab something to eat before we go to class,” Even calls back to him. Isak shakes himself slightly, careful not to disturb the flower, and jogs after him.

By the time Isak catches up to Even (again), they’ve arrived at the cafe. Even, ever the gentleman, holds the door for Isak, who blushes and hurries inside. The cafe is decently busy, but not overpacked. There’s a table tucked into the corner by the window that Even points out to him.

“Grab that table for us while I get us coffee, okay?” Even requests, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. Isak opens his mouth, ready to tell him what he wants to drink, but Even beats him to the punch.

“You seem like a black coffee type of guy, am I right?” he asks, raising his eyebrows playfully. Isak’s mouth clamps shut, and he flushes annoyingly. How many times will this boy make him blush? He’s already tired of it.

Even smiles smugly, satisfied with Isak’s silence and taking it as an answer. “Thought so. Now go snag the table before we have to share a seat at one of the single tables, although I don’t mind if you sit on my lap.”

Isak spins on his heel to head towards the tables before Even can see how pink his cheeks are, but he can hear Even chuckle behind him. He shrugs off his sweater and drapes it over the back of his chair, and settles in. Checking his phone, it’s nearing 18:00, which means they have about an hour of each other’s company before they have to head the campus for class. Isak is broken out of his train of thought when Even sets two cups of coffee on the table, followed by two slices of cheese toast.

“I assumed you would be hungry, so I just got you what I usually get,” Even says sheepishly, sliding the plate towards Isak. “Here’s your coffee by the way.”

“Thank you,” Isak mumbles, trying to smother his smile. He grabs a packet of sugar and dumps the contents in, stirring his coffee. When he inspects the cheese toast, he realizes, that there are no spices on it.

“Do you just eat your cheese toast with nothing on it?” Isak asks, appalled.

“That’s not true, there’s cheese on it. That’s what makes it cheese toast and not regular toast.”

“But it’s so boring then!” Isak exclaims incredulously. “We need to dress this up immediately.”

“Oh, is that so?” Even says around a laugh. Isak can’t help but return it, giving him a mock stern look.

“I don’t play games when it comes to food. Now would you kindly go ask the barista for chili powder and oregano?”

“Chili?”

“Yes. Always chili. And cardamom, if you would be so kind.”

“Chili, cardamom, oregano. Got it,” Even says under his breath and pushes out from the table, heading to the front. Isak watches, giggling to himself at the puzzled expression on the barista’s face as Even lists off the spices Isak asked him to collect. In no time, Even is returning to their table, four spices in tow. He dumps them unceremoniously in front of Isak.

“So, on today’s menu,” Even announces grandly, causing a few heads to turn. Isak buries his face in his hands, peering up at Even through his fingers. Even continues with a smile.

“We have chili, oregano, cardamom, and -complements of the chef- Caribbean jerk barbeque?” He squints at the label, “Yes, that. Take your pick, Mr. Valtersen.”

Isak smothers his laugh in order to answer.

“Well, Mr. Bech Naesheim, I think we should go all in.”

“All in?” Even repeats, a weirdly vulnerable undertone to his voice. Isak maintains the intense eye contact, even as Even sinks into his chair, and nods.

“Alright then. No turning back now,” Even says, grabbing the chili powder first, breaking the moment. Isak hums in response and grabs the cardamom.

“No turning back now,” he says quietly. They put the rest of the spices on in silence, and simultaneously look up at each other once they’re done.

“Cheers!” Even lifts his toast up, heavily laden with spices, to knock against Isak’s. They take a bite together, and wait for the other’s reaction. Isak nearly spits it out, and Even bursts out with a laugh.

“God, that’s awful,” Isak splutters, taking a gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

“It tastes like balls,” Even comments contemplatively. “It’s so bad it’s almost good.”

“No,” Isak shakes his head vehemently, taking another bite and gagging. “It just keeps getting worse and worse.”

“It was your idea to put all of them on! Really, Isak, cardamom?”

“It’s the secret ingredient to every good meal!” Isak interrupts himself with a cough. “Or something.”

Even breaks out into a laugh, his whole face moving around to make room for his smile. It’s infectious. Isak starts laughing too. Even checks his phone and sighs.

“It’s 18:45, we should head to campus,” he says dejectedly. Isak knows how he feels. It’s like they’ve only spent 10 minutes together instead of almost two hours. He doesn’t want to share Even with a whole class. He doesn’t want to share _himself_ with a whole class either. They get up, and head out the door. Halfway down the sidewalk, though, and in the middle of a heated, mainly one sided discussion about Tupac’s discography (from Even), someone taps Isak’s shoulder.

“You forgot this in the cafe,” Erik says, Isak’s hoodie in hand. He tosses it to Isak. “But I’m not surprised you’re forgetting clothes everywhere now.”

Isak flushes in embarrassment, shame hot in his belly. He feels Even tense next to him.

“What are you implying, exactly?” Isak startles at the sharpness of Even’s tone. He’s never heard him like that before.

“Oh, is this a date?” Erik puts a hand over his heart, sneering. “My bad, sorry for interrupting. You should know, though,” He turns, addressing Even now. “Your boy here strips for the art students. So if you see any of them around him, beware. They all probably think he puts out because he let them see his junk.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Even says bluntly. “Come on, Isak. Let’s go.”

He puts his arm around Isak’s shoulder gently, letting Isak decide whether or not it’s okay. When Isak doesn’t protest, his grip becomes firmer, and he guides him down the street. They walk towards the building in silence.

“Are you okay?” Even asks quietly, his arm loosening it’s grip. Isak wants to lean into him, use Even’s body to ground himself, but doesn’t. He’s already embarrassed enough.

“I’m fine. I don’t know what the fuck his problem is,” he runs a hand over his face tiredly. “I don’t get why he keeps bothering me.”

Even rubs his shoulder soothingly, ushering him inside the building.

“I guess he’s pissed I won’t sleep with him,” Isak laughs humorlessly. “I apparently only go for art students because they appreciate my naked body.”

Even hums again, letting his hand fall from Isak’s shoulder. Isak immediately mourns the loss of contact, but doesn’t ask for it back. They ascend the stairs to the studio and Even smiles at him before going over to the easels. Isak undresses quickly, grabbing his robe and rushing to the podium. He drapes his robe over the chair set up on the stand, assumes position, and class begins.

All of class his eyes wander back to Even. When his back is turned, he’s thinking of Even. It’s all he can do to not break protocol and contort mid-stance, but he reminds himself that all the students would probably throw their charcoal at him for fucking up their drawings by moving. However, Even isn’t looking at him the same. He’s more focused on his board than ever, and only glances at Isak, never making eye contact. Every time Isak tries to catch his eye, he can’t. It makes Isak’s skin crawl.

Once class ends, Isak goes to talk to Even but sees that Even is by the sinks, washing his hands. He considers going over there in his robe, but ultimately decides to go change. He dresses quickly but not in a rush, thinking that Even will wait for him like he seemingly did last time. But by the time he steps out from behind the divider, he’s the only one left in the room besides Marianne. He wanders over to her.

“Did you see Even leave?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. She looks up at him from over her sketchbook. He takes the time to glance down. Her drawing style is more gestural than some of the others he’s seen; she uses elongated strokes to put Isak together on her paper. He looks elegant and long, not skinny and lanky. There are no defining features, per say, but he can tell its him. He almost wishes he actually looked like that.

“No, sorry. I was busy figuring out room schedules. This studio doesn’t belong to this class solely, so we compete with other programs for time slots,” she explains. “It’s all good though, we still have the room for Thursday.”  
“Okay,” Isak says absently. “I’ll see you then.”

He heads to the door, grabs his hoodie off the hook, and leaves. Before he even puts it on he checks the pockets for a note or a sketch, but finds none. His stomach twists as he shrugs it on, wrapping his arms around himself. Once out of the building, he jogs to the tram stop in case Even is there like before, waiting to offer him an earbud, but the bench is empty. Isak boards the tram listlessly and pulls out his phone to text Even.

**Even**

**_Isak, 21:31_ **

_?hey, missed u after class. where did u go_

It’s five minutes before Even responds.

**Even**

**_Even, 21:36_ **

_Yeah, sorry, had to run. Forgot some canvases in another studio_

**_Isak, 21:36_ **

_oh, ok_

_see u soon??_

**_Even, 21:37_ **

_im pretty busy this week, sorry_

**_Isak, 21:37_ **

_oh ok_

_goodnight then <3 _

**_Even, 21:39_ **

_night isak_

**_Even, 21:42_ **

_ <3 _

Isak tucks his phone in his pocket, off the tram now. He unlocks the door and steps in quietly, toeing off his shoes, trying not to disturb anyone. Eskild peeks out of his room, an excited grin on his face, but after taking in Isak’s tired stance he softens.

“Want me to run you a bath, baby gay?” Eskild asks, coming out and running a hand through Isak’s hair. Isak smiles tiredly and shrugs him off, not unkindly.

“No, I’m okay. I’m pretty wiped so I’m going to bed,” he says and Eskild nods, understanding. Before disappearing into his room, he turns around.

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay? I don’t feel like talking right now,” he explains, and Eskild nods again.

“Goodnight Isak,” he says, blowing him a kiss. Isak doesn’t have it in him not to catch it.

“Night, Eskild,” he presses the kiss to his heart and closes the door. He pulls off his jeans and shirt, throwing his socks in the direction of the hamper. He holds his phone in his hands and hopes to see any new texts, but doesn’t. With that, he tosses it on his nightstand, pulls the duvet up to his chin, and sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off: HI! I MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH. I am SO beyond sorry it took me nearly two damn months to publish this godforsaken chapter. Skam has already ended (may she live on in our hearts) and I'm not even sure if people are gonna read this. However, like I've said before and will say again- I'm not giving this story up. There's a lot in this verse that I want to write, and I plan to see it through to the end. Big thanks to Elly, Karly, Anna, and Alex for moral support and advice, and thanks to Katie for motivation. Thanks to all the beautiful SKAM fic writers as well, SKAM lives on through us! you make writing fun<3  
> In regards to the angst going on in this chapter: trust in me! I promise to resolve everything going on. I am such a baby when it comes to angst it's pathetic so I won't leave you suffering for long;)  
> kudos are always appreciated and comments are too! takk for alt<3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak pines for Even, asks for advice, and gives some too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh hi, I'm back! Thank you so much for patiently waiting for me to update, it means the world. This is the longest chapter I've written with a 8.1K word count, and I think is my favorite I've written so far! Thank you millions to my lovely beta and lovelier friend [smokeshop](http://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeshop/pseuds/smokeshop) for giving me endless advice, inspirational words, and listening to me complain over and over again<3  
> (warnings in the endnotes because they have spoilers)

_Tuesday, 21:59_

**Even**

**_Isak, 22:00_ **

_Hey!_

_What was that movie you wanted me to watch?_

_Romeo and juliet?_

**_Isak, 22:05_ **

_Or was it romeo+juliet?_

**_Even, 22:12_ **

_Romeo+juliet_

_If you search the other one you’ll come up with something else_

_Which isn't as good_

**_Isak, 22:14_ **

_Right okay_

_Romeo+juliet is by the spectacular Baz Luhrmann_

_I remembered:)_

**_Even, 22:45_ **

_Yes lol_

_The legend himself_

_Gotta go work on some stuff, talk later._

That was the last text Isak got from Even tonight. He sighs, rolling onto his stomach, staring at his phone. They hadn’t talked all of yesterday, and this was the first time since Sunday that he’d heard from Even at all. He swallows hard, trying to loosen the knot in his throat, break apart the stone of dread sitting in his stomach. Since Sunday night after Erik approached him and Even, Even had been acting significantly off, leaving Isak at a loss. Even, who was so openly flirtatious and caring and warm, has suddenly become cold, aloof, and distant. It’s almost like he’s two different people in one. Isak sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face before getting up, leaving his phone face down on the bed. He wanders over to Eskild’s door and knocks softly. He knows Eskild likes his beauty sleep.

“Eskild? Can I come in?”

He hears some shuffling behind the door, before it cracks open slowly. Eskild’s hair is sleep rumpled, and he squints at Isak, not unkindly.

“What’s going on, princess?” he asks groggily, and Isak’s chest tightens at the word. He pushes Even’s voice out of his head and musters a tight smile that is more like a grimace.

“Can I come in? I could use some guru advising,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “It’s okay if you wanna sleep or anything, it can wait until tomorrow.”  
“No, it’s fine Issy, really,” Eskild says. He steps back from the door and allows Isak to shuffle inside before closing the door gently. Isak stands there for a moment while Eskild crawls back onto his bed, the lamp on his bedside table a soft yellow light. Eskild pats the spot next to him, cooing at him.

“Come here, baby Jesus,” he says knowingly, and Isak goes, crawling on the bed and lying on his stomach next to Eskild. Eskild shifts and smoothes Isak’s hair away from his face, and Isak relaxes into it. As much as Eskild jokes about being Isak’s adopted father and guru, he’s the closest thing Isak has to a paternal figure. His mother was wrapped up in her mind the majority of his life, which he doesn’t blame her for anymore, but was still true. His real father was too absent too often to contribute any parental guidance and love to Isak’s life as he grew older. He’s learned not to be too bitter, to not linger on the sourness that came with remembering the last years spent in his childhood home; he tries to think fondly of the time where his mother was present, and his father was still in love with his family, and the way Isak would walk between them, one hand in each of his parents’, and how he would scream in delight when they would swing him in the air.

Eskild was there for him at the point where he needed someone most. His mother had retreated into her mind, and his father had decided he could no longer deal with the burden of his imperfect family. Eskild took him under his wing, offered him a place to stay when his home life got to be too much. Eskild taught him how to accept himself, guided him through the shitshow of coming out of the closet, and firmly told him what was and wasn’t acceptable to say about others. He parented Isak, taught Isak more about life, nurtured Isak into who he was today more than his biological parents ever did. Isak can’t ever forget that.

“What’s going on?” Eskild prompts, looking down at Isak.

Isak sighed, shifting so his arms were folded underneath his head.  
“I don’t know. You know how I went on that date- well, how I hung out with Even before class on Sunday?” he waits for Eskild to nod before continuing. “Well, it was going great, like really well, until we left the cafe.”

“What happened? Did he do something?” Eskild asks, and Isak can hear the frisson of anger in his sleepy question. Eskild sits up a little straighter in bed, more alert. Isak is quick to assuage his concern, though.

“No, no, he didn’t do anything bad. It was this asshole, Erik,” Isak says, sighing and pressing two fingers hard to his brow.

“Who?”

“He’s in my year, you probably don’t know him,” Isak tells him. “But he’s been giving me shit about this naked modelling stint, which is annoying but something I can deal with.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Eskild argues. “He doesn’t have a right to be a dick to you over that.”

Isak shrugs noncommittally. “It’s really no big deal. But yeah, after Even and I left Trygve, I left my sweater on the chair, so I guess Erik recognized it as mine and ran out to give it to me.”

Eskild hums, waiting for Isak continue. Isak appreciates him for not interrupting as he so usually does.

“But when he came up to us, he started saying gross things about me,” Isak grimaces at the memory, cheeks hot with shame. “He was saying shit about how since I model naked he wasn’t surprised I leave my clothes around, and how Even must have been on a date with me because he thought I would put out because I let people see me naked. And, like, how he should be careful because I might be sleeping around with the other art students, or something.”

“Fuck, Issy, I’m so sorry,” Eskild murmurs soothingly, pushing his fingers through Isak’s hair methodically. “What happened after that?”

“Even told him that Erik had no clue what he was talking about, and then we both left. But he was really distant after, and has been for the past couple of days. And I just,” Isak breathes out shakily. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Baby,” Eskild says, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Erik was a fucking asshole to you, and maybe Even just feels bad for being part of the reason Erik continued to pick on you, since Erik was making those comments about you being easy.” Eskild spits out Erik’s name like it’s a slur.

“I don’t know,” Isak pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Maybe he just doesn’t want me anymore because of what Erik said. Maybe he thinks I’m easy.” Isak’s mouth tastes sour after he says it.

“If he’s the good guy you’ve been saying he is, I’m sure that isn’t the case, okay?” Eskild shakes Isak’s shoulder a little with conviction. “And if it is, then he’s not worth your time. I’ll go find you a nice journalism major instead.” When Isak laughs at that, Eskild smiles. “Art boys can be drama anyways, I would know.”

Isak raises an eyebrow at Eskild half heartedly, but lays his head down on Eskild’s shoulder.

“Oof, you have such a heavy head,” Eskild complains. “I can’t have you bruise my porcelain shoulder. I show this shoulder off a lot, you know.”

“I bet,” Isak scoffs, but scoots down the bed a little. He drops his head heavily back on Eskild, this time on his stomach. He laughs when Eskild wheezes behind him.

“Do you want me to puke on you? Jesus,” Eskild coughs, pinching Isak’s ear hard. “These cute curls do a good job of hiding your big head.”  
“Don’t be mean to me, I’m going through a boy crisis,” Isak grumbles into his stomach. He hears a sympathetic noise from Eskild.

“It’s okay baby gay,” Eskild sighs. “Everything will work out fine.”

***

_Wednesday, 16:15_

Today is better than yesterday, mainly because Isak has been able to keep busy. He woke up and went to get breakfast with Eskild, and then went straight to Psychology from there.

Although Even pops up in his thoughts every now and then, tugging painfully at his heart, he’s more able to focus back on the task at hand and ignore it. He can’t seem to stop himself from looking for a particular jean jacket on campus, though. But each time he catches himself, he lifts his chin and continues on his way.

After class, he makes his way towards the cafeteria to grab some chips for the tram ride home. He pulls out his phone as he walks down the hall to text Eskild when a student barrels by him, effectively knocking him into the bulletin board without so much as a glance backwards. Isak spins around, completely prepared to shout obscenities after him but the boy is long gone. He sighs, shouldering his bag when he spots a poster he knocked off the board. It’s an ad for the Norwegian Student Association’s weekly meeting, which is being conducted in the cafeteria. Isak groans, kicking the paper across the floor until the guilt settles in and he walks across the hall and picks it back up, tacking it back on the bulletin board. By this time in the day, his social battery is dangerously low, so he weighs his options. He mulls over the idea of braving through a bunch of over eager club members asking him to join the association to get some chips for the way home, or waiting another half hour until he gets back to the collective to eat. The only thing he had time for this morning was an already half eaten granola bar sitting on the kitchen counter, and that had been at ten. He decides hunger wins, and drags his feet towards the cafeteria. His phone pings with a text, and he pulls it out of his pocket to see.

**The Boys**

**_Jonas, 16:20_ **

_420 bro_

_Lol_

**_Mahdi, 16:20_ **

_Lol_

**_Magnus, 16:20_ **

_Lol_

_Blaze it_

**_Isak, 16:20_ **

_Get a life_

**_Jonas, 16:21_ **

_Wow_

_Guess you're not getting any bud next time we pregame_

Isak snorts, pockets his phone, and pushes through the doors to the cafeteria. As expected, the meeting is already in session, all the chairs dragged to form a cluster around the center table in the room. Isak edges along the wall, trying to be as discreet as possible. He makes it over to the vending machine and successfully snagging the last bag of salt and vinegar chips before making his way to the exit. By the time all of this has taken place, the meeting has ended and the club members have dispersed, some staying behind to put back chairs and collect papers. As he’s about to beeline out to the main lobby, he sees a familiar white blonde head leaning over the table.

Usually, Isak avoids initiating conversation with Vilde. It isn’t because he doesn’t like her, or anything, it's more that she tends to be over eager to talk to him. Whereas Isak’s social tolerance is low on a good day, Vilde’s is sky high. It makes total sense to Isak that she would be president of this type of club, he’s surprised he forgot she was. In high school, she had tried to rope him into joining Kosegruppa, which he nearly finagled his way out of until he (shamefully) hid Mahdi’s weed at Eva’s house during a party and was caught by Sana, who had seen him do so and used it as blackmail to force him and his friends to join. In truth, he only went to a handful of meetings, but Vilde was consistently friendly and persistent about his membership there.

He’s about to walk out without making a fuss when he remembers his conversation with Eva. Conflicted, he stalls, considering his options. He could bolt and say that he forgot that the meeting was today, but almost immediately (and definitely annoyingly) he’s struck with a feeling of guilt. He’d promised Eva he would talk to her, and he’s not one to go back on his word. Besides, the memory of Eva’s dejected face sits uncomfortably in his mind, so he makes a decision. Barely suppressing a groan, he squares his shoulders and walks over to the table, tapping it lightly. Vilde’s head snaps up so fast that Isak worries she got whiplash. But when she recognizes Isak, her face breaks out into a wide and toothy grin.

“Isak!” She says excitedly. “It’s so good to see you! How are you? What are you doing here?”

Isak bites back the snarky reply of “Well, I go here and I was hungry, and this is the cafeteria,” and swallows it down before collecting himself.

“I was hungry, and I wanted to grab a snack on the way home,” He says, holding up his bag of chips. “And I saw your club meeting and didn’t wanna interrupt, so I waited until it was done to come over and say hi.”

Vilde blushes, looking rather flattered, but it doesn’t seem like it’s in a flirtatious way. Isak had always been “snippy” with Vilde, as Eskild liked to say, and therefore always was mildly shocked when Isak was nice to her. It makes Isak feel like only a little bit of an asshole.

“That was so nice of you,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and looking earnestly up at him. “You know, you should join the club! Our meetings are always super fun, and we serve much healthier snacks than chips.”

Isak grimaces, drawing the chips against his chest, a tad protectively.

“No, it’s alright, Vilde,” he starts, and when her face starts to fall, he rushes to continue. “It’s just that I’m really busy with chem labs and stuff that I couldn’t fit it into my schedule. We can’t all be masters of planning like I know you are,” he adds, hoping it’ll soften the blow.

It does the trick. Vilde’s smile is back at full wattage, and it has a self satisfied tilt to it. Isak doesn’t really mind it.

“That’s alright, Isak, don’t worry,” she chirps. “Plus, I can give Eskild or Noora some good and healthy recipes to make for the collective and you.” The way she says it is absolutely void of malice, and she says it sweetly enough that Isak can’t find it within himself to be offended.

“Thanks, I’m sure whatever you suggest will be great,” he breathes out a laugh. He remembers why he started talking to Vilde in the first place, and changes the subject.

“So, Vilde, how are other things?” He asks, aiming for subtlety. “Dating around? Anyone interesting?” He keeps the subject gender neutral, hoping she’ll catch on.

Vilde blushes again, looking down at the table. “Oh, you know, I’m not seeing anyone seriously. The last person I dated was Magnus, you remember.”

That he definitely does. He could actually stand to not remember the months Magnus spent pining over her, or his excited soliloquy of the first time Vilde rode him. It had ended amicably according to Magnus, apparently a mutual agreement. But from the way Magnus still had that longing look in his eyes when Vilde was mentioned in conversation, it didn’t appear to be all that mutual.

Isak nods in affirmation, and decides to probe further.

“You know, there are a lot of single boys and girls on campus. You just gotta make yourself known,” he says. So much for subtlety.

At the mention of girls, Vilde very inconspicuously perks up, which Isak takes as a win. She also looks a little nervous, and Isak knows from experience that if he presses too much she’ll end up getting flighty. He backs off.

“Well,” Isak begins. “If you have any questions about anything, you know, about liking the same gender, you can always text me.” He winces, knowing how stilted it sounded.

Luckily Vilde doesn’t seem to mind; if anything, she looks relieved.

“Thank you, Isak,” she says, a small, quiet smile playing on her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Isak nods twice, “Anytime, Vilde. I’ll see you later.” And with that, he heads out of the cafeteria and out of the building, finally tearing open his bag of chips.

Later, when he’s on the tram home, he texts Eva, fingers still greasy from the chips.

**Eva**

**_Isak, 17:00_ **

_Vilde likes girls, girl_

**_Eva, 17:00_ **

_No fucking way_

_How did you find out?!_

**_Isak, 17:01_ **

_I have my ways ;)_

**_Eva, 17:02_ **

_Isak!!_

_Come on_

_Isak_

**_Isak, 17:03_ **

_Dont worry, I didn't compromise any info_

_But just trust me on this_

**_Eva, 17:03_ **

_Fuck, okay_

_You're the best <3 _

_My hero_

Isak’s smile falters, and his heart beats painfully for a second, the type that you feel in your palms and in your chest, as the thought of Even passes through his mind. He pushes it out, shakes himself off, and pockets his phone. He doesn’t think of Even again, the whole ride home and up until he gets into bed. Then it becomes a different story.

***

_Wednesday, 22:45_

He gets very, very drunk later that night.

As soon as he got home, Eskild took one glance at the dejected slump of his shoulders, the downturn of his mouth, and the general angst of Isak in general before declaring that they needed to go out. Isak had been too broody and out of it to protest, and before he knew it they were out the door and through the one to the nightclub Eskild frequents. That’s where he is now, sitting at the bar 4 shots in and talking enthusiastically to the bartender.

“And I don’t know what I did wrong!” Isak moans dramatically, hands pressed to his cheeks as he looks imploringly at the bartender. He thinks his name is Hans. Hans looks like he’s walking the line between being amused and pitiful of Isak.

“It was going so-” Isak interrupts himself with a loud burp, “God, _fuck_ , excuse me. It was going so well. He told me I was made of _sunshine,_ and now he’s not answering my texts.”

At the mention of that, he checks his phone to see if Even has responded to any of his many incoherent texts that he’s sent over the past hour.

**Even**

**_Isak, 22:50_ **

_Even_

_I jsut wanted to say that I’m sorry if i fucked upp our date_

_I liek u so mcuh you know/?_

**_Isak, 23:15_ **

_Even!_

_I promis im didn’t sleep with Eirk if thats whar u think_

_He’s just mean and gross_

_Im not easy i swaer_

**_Isak, 23:22_ **

_I just wany u to touch me:(_

_Am i not gofud enogu?_

_Fcuk_

_**fikc_

_**fuck_

“That blows,” Hans says sympathetically, causing Isak to look up from his phone. Hans slides over a glass of water before wandering down to serve someone else, Isak mumbling his thanks long after Hans has left his side. He takes a sip before setting it back on the table.

“It does blow,” he whines pathetically and to himself, slumping against the counter. “It blows so much.”

“Who blows so much?” Eskild says as he sidles up next to Isak, out of breath and sticky and glowing from sweat. “Who? Can you introduce me?”

“No one, Eskild,” Isak hisses, rolling his head against his arm. “No one is blowing anyone. I wish, though,” Isak sighs forlornly. “I wanna blow Even.”

“Now, now,” Eskild coos, patting Isak’s head with a heavy hand that makes it feel more like slapping. “Don’t fret, pretty boy. There are lots of fish in the sea, lots of dicks to blow. Ha, seamen, semen-,”

“Please go away,” Isak plugs his ear that’s not smushed against his arm with his finger. “Please stop talking. Can we go home?”  
Eskild looks like he’s about to protest, so Isak pulls out the big shots. He slides out of his chair unsteadily and pouts at the older boy, stomping his foot.

“I wanna go home, let’s go home. I’m tired and sad,” Isak whines, hanging his head back. Eskild heaves a sigh and takes Isak by the arm, dragging him towards the front while muttering under his breath. Isak does his best to smother the self satisfied smirk on his face. While Eskild is dragging him through the crowd, Isak feels an unwelcome hand grope around his ass. He yanks his arm from Eskild’s and whips around to come face to face with none other than Erik.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Isak spits out, shoving at Erik’s chest and making him stumble a step back. However, the cocky grin stays in place. Isak wants to wipe the ground with it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Erik leers, not sounding very sorry at all. “I thought that was fair game. You know, it being accessible to the public all the time.” People are glancing at the two of them now, and Isak flushes in shame, shrinking back.

“Fuck off,” Isak turns to see Eskild storming up next to him, eyes blazing. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eskild this angry before, drawing himself up to his full height. Isak didn’t realize that Eskild was taller than him.

“Just because Isak _chooses_ to let people see him naked, doesn’t give _you_ -,” Eskild presses his finger sharply into Erik’s chest, “The choice to touch his body. That’s not your prerogative and it _certainly_ isn’t your right. So whatever fucked up idea you’ve worked into that ugly, sorry head of yours, get it out. Isak doesn’t owe you anything.” Erik’s face shutters from confident to angry, grin turning into a snarl. He opens his mouth to reply but doesn’t have the chance to as Eskild gives Erik one more disgusted look before taking Isak by the wrist and pushing through the masses.  

Isak takes a deep, cleansing breath once they’re outside of the club, and immediately hobbles over to the curb before dropping down with a huff. Eskild sits next to him, pressing his shoulder against Isak’s, causing Isak to turn to him.

“You okay, baby Jesus?” Eskild asks softly, rubbing Isak’s back gently. Isak squirms a little. He can’t decide whether he wants to brush it off, make it seem not as serious so Eskild doesn’t worry, or if he wants to tell the truth, tell Eskild how uncomfortable and ashamed he really feels.

“I guess, yeah,” Isak mumbles, not really believing it himself. “He’s just an asshole. I can ignore him.”

“Isak,” Eskild sighs, “You don’t have to pretend that it’s not a big deal. He’s harassing you, it’s okay if it bothers you. Fuck, it bothers _me_ that it’s happening to you because of this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Isak sighs, stomach rolling. He puts his head on Eskild’s shoulder. “I don’t feel like talking about it anymore. Can we please go home?”

His phone pings, and he looks down to see who texted him.

**Even**

**_Even, 23:56_ **

_Please get home safe and drink some water, okay?_

Isak feels like crying, so he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face more firmly into Eskild’s shoulder.

“Please, can we go home?”

Something in Isak’s tone must get to Eskild, maybe the pleading edge to it, so Eskild drops it.

“Alright, I’ll call a cab,” Eskild murmurs, wrapping an arm around Isak. “We can go home.”

***

Thursday, 09:23

Isak wakes up early this morning, and promptly wishes he hadn’t.

His head is actually _throbbing_ like it’s paid to do so. He idly wonders if, should he go to the mirror, he’d see his skull actually pulsate, but the word “pulsate” is too complex to be thinking of with a downright gnarly hangover. He should probably stick to simple, primary school words.

He slides out of bed gently, trying not to jostle himself too much in case his head falls apart. He sinks to the floor, patting around for his jeans to find his phone. Once found, he realizes it’s dead and plugs it in, leaving it on his nightstand. He picks himself back up and wanders into the kitchen to nurse himself back to health.

He’s surprised to see Linn sitting at the table, slowly and methodically eating a bowl of oatmeal. He squints against the light, and turns to her.

“What are you doing up?”

“I could ask the same thing,” she says monotonously, getting up from her seat with a sigh. She has her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, and it drags on the floor as she heads for the cabinet. He watches her for a second before replying.

“I don’t wanna be up,” he says, wandering to the table and sitting down. “I just woke up early today, and I can’t ever fall back asleep once I wake up, so…” he trails off.

When Linn turns back around, there’s a mug sitting underneath the coffee maker on the counter, and a glass of water in her hand. She sits down, sets the water in front of Isak and places two ibuprofen next to it. He blinks at them, and then blinks up at her, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. Linn has always been a steadfast, comforting presence in the collective. She would sit silently in the living room with Isak when he would have a particularly stressful workload from school, and always would extend a helping hand in the smallest of ways. This morning is a good example.

“Thank you, Linn,” he says quietly, taking the pills and swallowing them with his water. He greedily drains the cup and sighs.

“It’s no big deal,” she responds, and takes her bowl to the sink. “Can you do my dishes? I just had oatmeal in this bowl and then there’s the pot I cooked it in.”

“Sure,” he says, and means it. Usually he would kick and scream about doing chores, but he’s feeling kindly to Linn so he doesn’t mind.

“Cool. I’m going to my room.”

“Okay, Linn. I’ll see you around.”

She hums in response, and disappears into the dark cave of her room. The coffee machine beeps to indicate it’s done, and Isak rises to grab his mug from under it. He grabs the sugar from the cabinet and adds a couple heaping spoonfuls and mixes it in while leaning against the counter. The ibuprofen is kicking in, soothing the jack hammering going on in his head and he rolls his neck, sighing. He takes a sip of his coffee, nods to himself in affirmation that it’s sweet enough to his taste, and cradles it in his hands for a while, warming himself up. After drinking about half of his mug, he wanders over to the sink and gets started on dishes. He finishes the overwhelming amount of two dishes fairly quickly and smiles to himself, ridiculously proud of this accomplishment. He drinks the rest of his coffee with a self satisfied smirk, and even goes as far to wash his own mug and wipe the water surrounding the perimeter of the sink away with a paper towel. He grabs a pen and paper from the other end of the counter, and scrawls something for the rest of his roommates to see.

_I just washed dishes, and wiped down the counter. You’re welcome._

_Isak_

With that, he walks back to his room, making a pit stop to pee and splash some water on his face.

By the time he returns to his room, his phone is charged again, which he can see the influx of texts from the night before and this morning. It also means that Isak remembers all of the texts he sent last night.

With a groan, he approaches his nightstand cautiously, like he’s approaching a wild animal. He finally bites the bullet and picks up his phone, unlocking it and scrolling through his notifications. It’s mostly just the groupchat with Mahdi, Magnus, and Jonas talking about some third year girls they met at a party from Nissen, with a couple of texts from Vilde inquiring about his interest in the Norwegian Student Association and Eva inquiring about Vilde. The only texts he really has interest in are Even’s.

**Even**

**_Even, 00:03_ **

_Isak? Did you get home safe?_

_Isak?_

**_Even, 00:41_ **

_I’m assuming you’re sleeping and that’s why you’re not answering, please text me in the morning_

**_Even, 07:12_ **

_Please text me when you wake up so I know you’re okay_

**_Even, 09:14_ **

_Isak, I don’t wanna call the cops to file a missing person’s report so please answer_

Isak flushes in embarrassment at the memory of all the texts he sent last night. Part of him wants to hide and never face Even again, but part of him is secretly basking in the attention he’s finally getting from him. Regardless, he doesn’t want the police showing up at his doorstep so he responds.

**Even**

**_Isak, 09:43_ **

_I’m okay, sorry for scaring you_

_My phone died while I was sleeping_

**_Even, 09:43_ **

_Thank god_

_I was having a nervous breakdown all night_

Isak’s heart stutters painfully at that, but he dismisses it.

**Even**

**_Isak, 09:44_ **

_Sorry again_

**_Even, 09:45_ **

_It’s fine_

_I’ll see you tonight_

_We should talk_

Isak grimaces and clicks out of the conversation, stomach twisting with dread. He’s already embarrassed at his lack of filter when drunk, and he was really hoping that Even would gloss over the unfortunate events of last night. Apparently no such luck. He doesn’t really want to respond to a text that warrants the feeling of impending doom, but he also is desperate to talk to Even again after days of no contact at all. Sighing, he reopens the conversation to respond.

**Even**

**_Isak, 09:53_ **

_Ok_

_See you later_

With that, he clicks out with an air of finality and opens up his text thread with Sana.

**Sana**

**_Isak, 09:57_ **

_Sanasol_

_Wanna meet up for lunch?_

**_Sana, 10:00_ **

_Sure_

_13:00?_

**_Isak, 10:01_ **

_Sounds good to me_

**_Sana, 10:01_ **

_KB?_

**_Isak, 10:02_ **

_Sure:)_

**_Sana, 10:03_ **

_None of that_

_See you then_

**_Isak, 10:03_ **

_Come on best bud_

_You_ _love me_

_Send me a smiley back_

**_Sana, 10:04_ **

_Who is this?_

_I don't know this number, sorry_

**_Isak, 10:04_ **

_Mean:(_

**_Sana, 10:04_ **

_Nothing new here_

**_Isak, 10:05_ **

_Cruel girl_

_ </3 _

**_Sana, 10:06_ **

_Ugh_

_ <3 :) _

_Better?_

**_Isak, 10:07_ **

_Sana! <3 _

_Aw, I feel the love_

_Now call me your best bud_

**_Sana, 10:07_ **

_Don't push your luck_

_See you later_

_Bye Isabel_

**_Isak, 10:08_ **

_Peace out_

***

_Thursday, 13:15_

“So why did you actually want to get lunch?”

Isak splutters into his coffee, not expecting such a blunt question even though knowing Sana, he should’ve. They’ve been sat for about fifteen minutes, catching up over coffee and sandwiches (Isak was generous enough to buy for both of them, Isak getting a grilled cheese and Sana opting for a brown cheese toastie) catching up and talking about school when Sana springs it on him.

“Um,” Isak stalls, rearranging his plate and drink in front of him. “Why can’t I just want to catch up with you? Why can’t I just enjoy spending time with my biology buddy?”

Sana raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin, dark lipstick still impeccably intact.

“Because,” she says, “You never offer to buy things unless you’re getting something out of it. And I’m sure you don’t actually want to hear about how my pre-med courses are going.”

“Well, maybe I want to hear about how you and Yousef are,” Isak retorts, mildly offended by her statement. He can care about people outside himself, thank you very much. “How is that going by the way?”

Sana’s eyes flicker down and her cheeks color nearly imperceptibly. The corner of her mouth twitches up in a grin before she schools her face into a flat expression. Her eyes are still smiling, though.

“We’re fine, he’s fine,” she says nonchalantly, almost pulling it off. He can hear the underlying tone of giddiness there.

“I’m happy for you,” he says sincerely, and she flushes just a tad harder before clearing her throat.

“That’s not the point,” she pins him with a look. “What’s going on?”

He sighs, knowing he can’t avoid it any longer. He doesn’t particularly feel like retelling the whole story, but he tries to condense it.

“So, I was late on rent money and Eskild hooked me up with a nude modelling gig for this figure drawing class at school,” he catches the way Sana’s eyebrow lifts a little, but she keeps quiet, so he continues.

“While doing that I met this guy called Even,” he can feel the corner of his mouth pull up as he says his name, but it’s quickly chased away with the feeling of embarrassment. “And he was really flirty for a bit, and even asked me to go to dinner. But then after we went to dinner, we ran into this asshole Erik who’s been giving me shit about this modelling thing. And he said some gross stuff about me,” Isak’s skin crawls with discomfort and shame at the memory, “So Even and I left to go to class. But ever since, Even hasn’t been talking to me. He’s avoiding my texts and when he does answer it’s hardly even a conversation. I don’t know what I did wrong, or if he just believed what Erik said about me.”

“Well, what did Erik say about you?” Sana asks, taking a sip of her drink before looking at him again.

Isak squirms uncomfortably, not wanting to relive the memory again.

“He just said some stupid shit, about how since I model naked I must be easy, and that’s why Even took me out. Or that Even should be careful because I’m probably sleeping with other art students? I don’t remember exactly.” Which is a lie, he remembers what Erik said word for word, but he doesn’t tell Sana that.

Sana’s probing expression softens at that, and Isak looks away, embarrassed. He doesn’t want people to feel bad for him, or think he’s weak enough to be affected by those comments.

“It’s whatever, though,” he says gruffly. “I just… I don’t know, want to know why he suddenly stopped talking to me. But last night I got really shitfaced, and ended up texting Even a lot of embarrassing shit,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He takes a bite of his grilled cheese to save himself from having to talk.

“And? Did Even still not respond?” Sana inquires, taking the last bite of her toastie before wiping her hands clean on the napkin.

Isak chews quickly and swallows, washing it down with a gulp of coffee to buy himself time.

“Uh, no, he responded, but not to the content of the message? Like, he just told me to drink water and text him when I got home safely. And then texted me a bunch of times this morning to make sure I was okay. He was about to call the police,” Isak huffs a laugh, spinning his cup in his hands.

“He clearly still cares about you, Isak,” she says simply, and rolls her eyes when all Isak does is blink at her. “Did you tell him you’re okay, at least?”

“Mhm,” Isak nods, “And I apologized for worrying him, too. But he said that we should talk today, and I’m nervous.”

Sana looks at him contemplatively before answering.

“I would give him a chance to explain himself,” she says decisively. “You clearly like him, and he clearly likes you. There’s definitely a reason behind him avoiding you, give him benefit of the doubt. He wouldn’t just do that to you, don’t you think?”

Isak thinks back to all of his interactions with Even, how sweet and attentive he acted with Isak. Even over the course of this week, he was still polite, still cared about Isak’s wellbeing. Isak heart aches a little at the thoughts, but pushes them to the side for now.

“You’re right,” he acquiesces, “I’ll talk to him tonight, after class.”

Sana nods, more to herself.

“Good.”

“Good.”

They both take long sips of their drinks before Isak speaks up.

“So, tell me more about the stupid Islamophobe in your anatomy class that you schooled on Tuesday,” he says with a conspiratorial grin on his face, putting his chin in the palm of his hand. Sana gives him an equally devilish smile and starts to speak. They spend the next two hours there.

***

_Thursday, 17:55_

Isak sprints from the tram stop to the art building, backpack half open and heart beating out of his chest. He stops to catch his breath in the main entrance, and genuinely contemplates crawling up the stairs on his hands and knees. He pulls himself together and slowly ascends, pulling himself along with two hands on the bannister. He shoulders his way into the studio, and flushes even harder when he sees all the students already swarming the easels, pulling their charcoals from their bags and loaning each other sheets of tracing paper. He scurries behind the divider and quickly undresses, throwing on the robe and dashing out to the podium. As he’s stepping up onto the platform, someone gently grabs his wrist. He pauses, one foot already on the platform, and turns around. Low and behold, Even is looking right up at him, hair swept out of his face and with his sharp teeth sinking into his lower lip. Isak nearly whimpers with how much he wants to kiss him.

“Um,” Even starts, uncharacteristically nervous. “Your left sock is still on.”

“Oh,” Isak says, looking down and turning beet red. So it happens, his sock is still very much on his foot, whereas the other one is bare. He looks back up at Even.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, cutting his eyes away when Even’s become intense in the way that they do, indecipherable with all the emotions in them. He gently pulls his wrist out of Even’s grasp, and tries to ignore the way Even’s hand lingers in the air before it drops to his side. Isak pulls the sock off his foot, shrugs off his robe and waits for Marianne’s instruction.

“Okay, Isak, just assume a dynamic stance. We’re gonna do three sets of 10 minute poses, alright?” When Isak nods in confirmation, she nods back, and he puts his hands on his hips, feet shoulder width apart as he puffs out his chest. It’s a pretty confident stance, Superman-esque, and from the short time he’s been modelling here he knows how it causes his muscles to engage, forcing more shadows and form onto the landscape of his body. He’s very angular as it is, so the way the shadows play when he tenses his muscles, makes them protrude, makes for a very interesting drawing subject.

“He’s so flushed,” he hears a girl whisper from behind him, and he has to remember not to turn around and see who it is.

“I know,” another voice giggles quietly. “I wonder why.”

“Maybe he was getting with someone before class,” the first girl says excitedly, and his stomach drops when she says, “I wouldn’t be surprised, looking like that. He’s probably putting out a lot, with people knowing he’s doing this when he looks like _that._ ”

“God, I know. Look at that ass,” the other girl sighs, and Isak feels like curling up and hiding. He feels his cheeks and nose heat up in shame, and the hot pressure in his forehead, behind his eyes, in his throat. He squeezes them shut, willing the wetness in his eyes to dissipate while keeping his chest puffed out. He tries to block out their voices.

“I know, right? I mean-,”

“Can you please not talk?” His eyes snap open at the sound of Even’s voice, breaking the silence. It’s harsh, the same way he spoke to Erik. His blue eyes are cold, icy as they stare down the two girls who were talking behind Isak. Isak wishes he could turn around and see their faces. “It’s supposed to be a quiet environment in here, and I can’t focus with you two gossiping. Thank you.”

Isak’s heart trills a little bit as the girls keep to themselves after that, jutting his chin out a little more. He meets Even’s gaze and smiles a little at him, and something uncoils in his stomach when Even smiles back.

***

_Thursday, 20:06_

After class the students disperse, and Isak stretches, joints cracking and muscles elongating. He pulls on his robe and heads to the divider to get changed, mindfully taking his time knowing that Even is waiting for him. He’s just pulling on his jeans when he hears someone tap on the divider. He jumps, startled, and stumbles into the flimsy thing, causing whoever tapped it to take a step back.

“Sorry,” Even chuckles, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just-, you forgot your sock on the stand,” he says the last bit a little sheepishly.

Isak finishes buttoning his jeans and peeks his head out from behind the divider, smiling a little at him.

“It’s okay, thanks,” he says, plucking it from Even’s hand. “It’s an essential item in my dressing process, so I appreciate you bringing it to me.”

Even laughs, making Isak’s stomach flutter warmly. “I’m sure it’s vital to the routine.”

Isak nods with feeling. “Can’t have a bare, sweaty foot in a shoe, sockless. It’s criminal.”

“God, please don’t talk about feet so vividly again,” Even grimaces theatrically, causing Isak to grin. “I’ll wait for you outside, it’s hotter in here than it is out there.”

Isak hums in response and listens to Even’s footsteps fade out. He pulls on his socks and ties his shoes before double checking he has everything before slipping out, shouting his goodbye to Marianne as he goes through the door. Now that Even isn’t with him, he starts to worry about all the things Even wants to talk about. God, maybe Even isn’t interested in him at all. Maybe Even is just trying to let him down easy by telling him what he texted him wasn’t appropriate. Jesus, what if Even isn’t even _single-,_

“Ground control to Major Tom,” Even says as he waves a hand in front of Isak’s face. He didn’t even realize he made it outside and was about to walk past Even.

“Sorry,” Isak laughs self deprecatingly, “Was lost in thought.”

Even makes a noise between a laugh and a snort that’s somehow endearing. “I know that feeling for sure.”

Isak pauses unsurely, rocking back on his heels. “So…”

Even sighs, running a hand through the back of his hair. “Let’s walk, yeah?” Even starts walking before Isak can agree, as if he knows he’ll follow. He’s not wrong.

They walk in a tense silence before Isak feels like he’s going to burst if he doesn’t say something.  
“I’m sorry about last night,” he blurts out, and Even stops walking, turning to him. He looks confused.

“Why?”

Isak opens his mouth and makes a weird, confused noise before closing it, throwing his hands up. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of more times before finding the right words.

“Because,” he starts unsteadily. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or anything.”

Even shakes his head forcefully, “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

I just,” Isak splutters, semi-frantic. “I’m sorry I keep throwing myself at you when you’re not interested. I know you’re a nice guy and it’s sweet of you to let me down easy, but-”

“Isak, what are you talking about?” Even asks, alarmed. He looks genuinely confused as to what Isak’s talking about, which makes Isak even more confused.

“Do you not want me? Is that it?” Isak asks, a little desperately at this point. The idea of Even not wanting makes him sick to his stomach, but he has to know so he can move on from it.

“What? No, Isak, of _course_ I want you,” Even says, looking appalled at the idea of him not being interested in Isak. It makes Isak nearly delirious with joy. “It drives me crazy how much I want you. I think about you all the time, I draw you almost everyday. I can’t _not_ want you, you’re in everything I do.”

“Then what’s the problem? Why won’t you kiss me?” Isak says incredulously. He doesn’t see what the hold up is.

It’s Even’s turn to let out a frustrated groan, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you for your body,” he says, eyes imploringly Isak. “I can’t stand the thought of you thinking I only want you because I’ve seen your body.”

Isak frowns, “I thought you were avoiding me because you thought I was easy.”  
“God, no,” Even looks like he’s in physical pain at the thought and strides up to Isak, cradling his face in his hands. It’s a miracle Isak doesn’t melt on the spot.

“Seeing you naked is a privilege, Isak, not a right,” he breathes, Isak closing his eyes as the words fan over his face. “I don’t want you to listen to a single word that piece of shit Erik has to say to you, or about you.”

Isak nods listlessly, going cross-eyed trying to look up at Even from such a short distance.

“I missed you all week,” Isak says quietly, whimpering slightly when Even’s fingers tighten around his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks.

“I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t want you,” Even replies, fingers curling gently behind Isak’s ears, stroking the soft skin and hair there. “There’s not been a second since I met you that I don’t want you.”

“Okay,” Isak says dreamily, hands coming up to hold Even’s wrists in place. “Then touch me.”  
Even sighs, face moving back an inch, “Isak.”

“No,” Isak says firmly, gripping Even’s wrists harder. “No, you don’t get to choose now, after this week. I know you’re worried about me thinking that you’re using me, but I know you’re not. I know you want me, not just my body. Okay?” He waits to see Even nod before continuing. “I want you to touch me. You’re the only one I want to touch me.”

“Isak,” Even repeats, and it sounds more like a surrender this time so Isak forges on.

“These hands,” Isak shakes them a little, “are the only hands I want on me. Out of everyone in that class, you’re the only one I want.”

The sigh Even lets out trembles as he runs his thumb over Isak’s bottom lip, and he shivers when Isak kisses it.

“So please touch me,” Isak says again, begging. He doesn’t shy away from Even’s gaze again, and he rubs his thumb over the back of Even’s hand. “Please.”

“Isak,” he says, and now it’s reverential, it’s a prayer. He leans in, imperceptibly, and when Isak tilts his chin up, he kisses him.

It starts out slow, Even presses a dozen small kisses to Isak’s lips, but when Isak’s lips open underneath Even’s, they turn more heated. Even pulls Isak closer so that he’s tucked right up next to Even’s chest, and Isak slides one of his hands into Even’s hair and tugs, shuddering at the groan he can feel vibrate against his lips. He finally cards his hand through Even’s hair like he’s been wanting to, giddily realizing how much softer it is than he could’ve ever imagined. He finally gets to sink his teeth into Even’s bottom lip, and the sound Even makes in response is like sin. Even’s hands stay on his face at first but quickly start to move, running firmly over the slope of Isak’s shoulders, the planes of his back, the curve of his ass and back up. It feels like he’s sculpting Isak, shaping him underneath his hands. It’s the best feeling in the world.

When they finally break away from each other, the vibrant, slick pink of Even’s bottom lip is nearly enough to make Isak dive in again. He blinks hard to clear the desire from his brain.

“Wanna go back to my place?” Even asks breathlessly, the hand on his waist edging underneath Isak’s shirt, thumb stroking the skin there. How are Isak’s legs still working? “I can make you a late dinner and we can watch a movie.”

“Sure,” Isak says, sliding his hand down to Even’s, the one resting on his opposite hip, lacing their fingers together.

“Lead the way, hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: slut-shaming, touching without consent  
> This chapter means a lot to me for a lot of reasons. I got to explore Isak's relationship with multiple characters in the fic and it was really fun to write their interactions with each other, and the way they behave in the AU I've created. This chapter also deals with non-consensual touching, slut-shaming, and general asshole behavior from Erik and the two girls in the end. I went back and forth with myself for a very long time over whether or not I wanted to include this particular part of the storyline, where Isak is being harassed physically and verbally over something that was made sexual by said harasser, because I didn't want to stir up controversy or get yelled at over it. However, I decided to go for it simply because the things Eskild and Even tell Isak in order to console him over Erik's actions are things I wish people had told me when I was in a similar situation. So if it bothered you to read that, I'm sorry, but it was cathartic and mentally beneficial for me to write and process. If you enjoyed it, or it helped you to see Eskild emphasize how it's never the victim's fault for getting harassed, I'm happy I could help you. Regardless, thank you for reading!  
> Whew, that got a lil winded. One more thing: I see all of your comments, and I appreciate and love every single one of them. The reason I'm so bad at replying is because I don't want to sound like a broken record when thanking you all for your kind words. But let it be said now; I'm so thankful for you, and i appreciate your comments more than you know. They make me want to keep writing<3 and even if I don't respond to them know that I saw it, so this is to let you know that.  
> Jeez okay, I'll wrap this up. Thank you again to smokeshop<3 you're the best, and to karly, elly, and alex  
> Kudos and comments are my life source<3 see you soon

**Author's Note:**

> This idea popped into my head out of nowhere a couple of days ago, and I decided to run with it because it was such a fun concept.  
> title is from Years & Years "Take Shelter"  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated, see you with the next update<3


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